LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVJS 


SOUTHERN   WRITERS 
SELECTIONS   IN    PROSE   AND   VERSE 


SOUTHERN  WRITERS 


SELECTIONS  IN  PROSE  AND  VERSE 


EDITED  BY 


W.    P.   TRENT 

AUTHOR  OF  "A   HISTORY  OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE,' 
"JOHN  MILTON,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


"Ntto  gcrfc 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1905 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1905, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  June,  1905. 


PREFACE 

THIS  volume  of  selections  from  Southern  writers,  designed 
primarily  for  use  in  school  and  college  classes  .in  the  South, 
will  not,  I  trust,  be  regarded  as  a  sectional  product  in  the 
unpleasant  sense  of  that  term.  The  history  of  the  South  and 
its  literature  cannot  profitably  be  divorced  from  the  history 
and  literature  of  the  entire  country ;  but  just  as  it  appears  de 
sirable  that  the  children  of  each  state  should  be  given  special 
instruction  in  the  history  of  that  commonwealth,  so  it  seems 
reasonable  and  appropriate  that  the  young  people  of  a  well- 
differentiated  section  like  the  South  should  be  afforded  an 
opportunity  to  study  the  writers  of  their  region  in  more  detail 
than  is  possible  when  only  general  text-books  on  American 
literature  are  employed.  This  volume,  in  other  words,  is 
intended  to  furnish  supplementary  reading  and  information 
which  the  teacher  can  use  in  connection  with  work  in  American 
literature,  or  in  a  special  subordinate  class  if  there  be  an  oppor 
tunity  to  form  one.  Many  of  the  extracts  given  have  also  been 
chosen  with  special  reference  to  their  availability  for  use  in 
connection  with  classes  in  history,  which  always  stand  in  need 
of  illustrative  material,  and  the  volume  may  serve  the  purposes 
of  a  reading  book,  as  well  as  of  a  supplementary  collection  of 
specimens  for  use  in  classes  in  composition  and  rhetoric.  I 
believe  that  I  do  not  exaggerate  when  I  say  that  a  study  of 
these  selections  ought  to  increase  a  pupil's  interest  in  American 
literature  and  history  as  a  whole,  and  also  to  open  his  eyes 
to  the  fact  that,  while  the  South  has  never  been  prolific  of 
books  and  writers,  its  people  have  contributed  a  larger  and  a 
better  share  to  the  literature  of  the  Republic  than  is  generally 
admitted. 

The  task  of  forming  such  a  collection  as  is  here  presented  is 


Vi  PREFACE 

not  inconsiderable.  Even  when  the  lists  of  Southern  writers 
that  have  been  compiled  by  students  anxious  to  claim  for  their 
section  every  available  name  have  been  rigidly  winnowed,  both 
on  the  score  of  correct  attribution  and  of  quality  of  production, 
there  still  remains  a  much  larger  number  of  worthy  and  repre 
sentative  authors  than  can  be  successfully  included  in  a  single 
volume.  The  statesmen  and  orators  alone  wrould  furnish  mate 
rials  for  a  large  book,  and  a  larger  one  could  be  readily  made 
from  writings  produced  since  the  Civil  War.  Minor  questions, 
too,  such  as  the  ease  with  which  an  author's  works  may  be  se 
cured,  and  the  consequent  danger  of  furnishing  material  most 
of  which  is  fairly  accessible  in  other  forms,  as  well  as  the  fre 
quently  mooted  point  whether  short,  more  or  less  fragmentary 
selections  are  of  much  value,  have  been  constantly  present  to 
my  mind.  I  can  scarcely  hope  to  escape  censure  for  having 
admitted  this  author  and  specimen  while  excluding  that ;  but  I 
can  at  least  say  that  my  recent  studies  in  preparation  for  my 
"  History  of  American  Literature,  1607-1865,"  have  enabled 
me  to  take  a  rather  wide  survey  of  the  field  to  be  covered,  and 
that  I  have  made  my  selections  with  care,  and,  as  far  as  I 
could,  with  regard  to  the  importance  of  the  writers  both  to  the 
South  and  to  the  Union  at  large. 

In  preparing  the  brief  biographical  and  critical  notices  I 
have  relied,  whenever  my  library  facilities  would  allow  me, 
upon  memoirs  and  sketches  of  recognized  authority.  In  some 
cases,  however,  it  has  been  possible  to  secure  only  the  most 
meagre  sort  of  data,  and  I  have  had  to  fall  back  upon  general 
works  of  reference.  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  have  my 
attention  called  to  sources  of  information  that  have  escaped  me, 
and  also  to  feel  that  the  deficiencies  of  this  book  may  stimulate 
Southern  students  to  supply  articles  and  monographs  on  minor 
writers  of  the  section  whose  lives  and  works  have  been  allowed 
to  sink  into  oblivion.  Corrections,  too,  of  bibliographical  errors 
—  for  with  such  a  large  number  of  items  errors  are  inevitable  — 
will  be  gratefully  received. 


PREFACE  Vii 

In  view  of  the  many  needs  which  the  book  is  designed  to 
meet,  the  mass  of  selections  has  been  made  comparatively 
large.  I  have  also  aimed  to  supply  material  for  intensive  study 
by  giving  considerable  space  to  such  writers  as  seem  more  and 
more  to  stand  out  as  the  chief  authors  of  their  section  and  of 
their  respective  epochs ;  for  example,  Poe  and  Henry  Timrod. 
I  have  appended  notes  here  and  there,  but  not  so  many,  I  trust, 
as  to  keep  the  student  away  from  the  two  books  that  should 
be  constantly  in  his  hands,  —  his  dictionary  and  his  manual  of 
classical  mythology.  In  view  of  the  facts  that  the  Old  South  is 
often  reproached,  perhaps  overzealously,  with  literary  sterility, 
and  that  the  writers  of  the  New  South  are  too  near  us  for  impar 
tial  criticism,  and  are  also  somewhat  accessible  and  familiar,  I 
have  emphasized  the  earlier  periods  and  exercised  considerable 
liberty  of  omission  in  the  third  division  of  the  volume.  For 
example,  it  has  seemed  best  to  give  the  writers  of  fiction  who 
made  themselves  prominent  in  the  eighties  precedence  over 
those  who  have  distinguished  themselves  within  the  last  fifteen 
years.  So,  again,  out  of  the  far  from  thin  ranks  of  the  latter-day 
Southern  poets  some  had  to  be  chosen  as  representative  and 
the  rest  passed  over.  This  is  only  to  say  that  the  fate  of  the 
anthologist  is  ever  the  same,  —  he  wishes  he  could  stretch  his 
volume  to  twice  the  size  a  prudent  publisher  would  be  justified 
in  allowing.  I  will  put  aside  so  vain  a  wish  and  substitute  for 
it  the  more  modest  one  that  some  of  the  boys  and  girls  now 
growing  up  in  that  South,  to  the  fortunes  of  which  no  Southern- 
born  man,  wherever  his  lot  may  be  cast,  can  ever  be  indifferent, 
may  through  this  book  become  much  more  familiar  with  the 
writers  of  their  section. 


W.  P.  TRENT. 


NEW  YORK, 
January  i,  1905. 


CONTENTS1 

PAGE 

PREFACE v 

FIRST  PERIOD,   1607-1789 

INTRODUCTION 3 

CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH 5 

Powhatan's  Treatment  of  Smith 7 

The  Pocahontas  Incident 9 

NARRATIVES  DEALING  WITH  BACON'S  REBELLION  .  .  .  .11 
Bacon's  Death 12 

ROBERT  BEVERLEY 14 

How  he  came  to  Write 15 

The  Pastimes  of  Colonial  Virginia 16 

COLONEL  WILLIAM  BYRD 18 

North  Carolina  Husbandry 19 

Running  the  Boundary  Line  through  the  Dismal  Swamp  .  .  20 

Primitive  Dentistry .  .  .22 

The  Spotswood  Home  . 23 

HENRY  LAURENS .  .24 

A  Bold  Toast 25 

An  Incorruptible  Patriot 26 

No  Running  Away 28 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON ,  ...  28 

To  the  Governors  of  All  the  States 30 

The  Spirit  of  Party -33 

America's  True  Foreign  Policy 35 

1  The  reader  may  find  useful  the  following  indications  of  the  contents  of  special 
notes :  For  "  The  Belles  of  Williamsburg,"  see  p.  62 ;  for  Mme.  Le  Vert,  see  p.  69, 
note  2}  for  a  list  of  miscellaneous  writers  of  the  Old  South,  see  p.  71,  note  2;  for 
early  Southern  scientists,  see  p.  173,  note  2 ;  for  early  Southern  humorists,  see  p.  70, 
p.  253,  note  i,  p.  271,  notes  2  and  3,  and  p.  456,  note  i ;  for  Southern  journalists,  see 
p.  71 ;  for  miscellaneous  writers  of  the  Civil  War  period,  see  p.  336,  note  ;  for  literary 
activity  immediately  after  the  Civil  War,  see  p.  375,  note;  for  Creole  writers,  see 
p.  377,  note  ;  for  the  negro  in  ante-bellum  humor,  see  p.  456,  note  i. 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PATRICK  HENRY 37 

The  Alternative 38 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON 41 

Jefferson  on  France 42 

First  Inaugural  Address 43 

DAVID  RAMSAY 47 

Some  Results  of  the  Revolution 48 

JAMES  MADISON 50 

A  Standing  Army  and  the  Constitution 52 

MRS.  ELIZA  WILKINSON 56 

A  Sprightly  and  Patriotic  Carolina  Dame 56 

ST.  GEORGE  TUCKER 60 

Resignation 60 

SECOND   PERIOD,    1790-1865 

INTRODUCTION 65 

JOHN  MARSHALL 73 

The  Character  of  Washington 74 

MASON  LOCKE  WEEMS 75 

Washington  and  the  Cherry  Tree 76 

Marion's  Escape 77 

WILLIAM  WIRT 78 

The  Blind  Preacher 79 

Burr  and  Blennerhassett 81 

To  Catharine  Wirt 84 

JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROANOKE  . 86 

Vaulting  Ambition 88 

Internal  Improvements  and  Loose  Constructions  ....  90 

The  Qualities  of  a  Chief 91 

DR.  JOHN  SHAW 93 

Song 94 

FRANCIS  SCOTT  KEY 94 

The  Star-spangled  Banner 95 

WASHINGTON  ALLSTON  .  . 96 

America  to  Great  Britain 97 

JOHN  CALDWELL  CALHOUN 99 

"  Ours  is  a  Federal  and  not  a  National  Government "...  100 

The  Conclusion  of  Calhoun's  Last  Speech 102 

DAVID  CROCKETT 104 

Concerning  his  Book 105 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

A  Backwoods  Magistrate  . 106 

Killing  a  Bear ' 107 

Crockett  defeated  for  Congress  . 108 

BEVERLEY  TUCKER  .  .  .  ....  .  .  .  .  in 

Partisans  on  the  Alert 1 1 2 

An  Unflattering  Description  of  Van  Buren 114 

WILLIAM  JOHN  GRAYSON  .  . 116 

A  Famous  Carolina  School 116 

A  Unique  Jail 117 

RICHARD  HENRY  WILDE .  .  .118 

Stanzas 119 

To  the  Mocking-bird '.120 

AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET 121 

The  Horse-swap 122 

ROBERT  YOUNG  HAYNE 130 

Webster  vs.  Benton 131 

The  Friends  and  the  Enemies  of  the  Union 132 

The  South  Carolina  Doctrine 133 

SAM  HOUSTON 135 

The  Victor's  Description  of  the  Battle  of  San  Jacinto  .  .  .136 

JOHN  PENDLETON  KENNEDY 140 

An  Old  Virginia  Estate  and  its  Master 141 

A  Combination  of  Vulcan  and  Mars 147 

HUGH  SWINTON  LEGARE  .' 148 

Byron  and  Scott 150 

A  Court  Dinner 151 

Expensive  Living .  .  153 

FRANCIS  LISTER  HAWKS 154 

Colonial  Piracy 155 

MIRABEAU  BUONAPARTE  LAMAR 158 

The  Daughter  of  Mendoza •  159 

EDWARD  Co  ATE  PINKNEY 160 

Italy .  161 

A  Picture-song 162 

Song 163 

A  Serenade 164 

A  Health 165 

Song 166 

CHARLES  ETIENNE  ARTHUR  GAYARRE" 167 

Characteristics  of  the  Natchez  and  Other  Southern  Indians  .  .168 
The  Tree  of  the  Dead  .170 


xii  CONTENTS 


PAGE 

MATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY 172 

Free  Navigation  of  the  Amazon       .         .         .        .         ,        .         .174 

WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 176 

The  Lost  Pleiad 178 

A  Sea-king's  State .        .        .        .180 

Fascinated  by  a  Rattlesnake 181 

A  Southern  Storm 186 

The  Burden  of  the  Desert 190 

GENERAL  ROBERT  E.  LEE 191 

Speech  of  April  23,  1 86 1,  before  the  Virginia  Convention        .         .  193 
To  Mrs.  Lee  after  the  First  Battle  of  Manassas        .         .        .         .194 

Traveller,  as  described  by  his  Master        .         .         .                  .         .  194 

To  Mrs.  Lee,  Christmas  Day,  1862 196 

Order  for  a  Day  of  Fasting 196 

To  the  President  of  the  City  Council  of  Richmond,  etc.  .         -197 

Lees  wanted  in  Battles,  not  at  Balls 198 

Order  announcing  the  Death  of  General  J.  E.  B.  Stuart  .         .         .198 

Lee's  Final  Address  to  his  Soldiers 199 

General   Lee's   Letter   accepting   the   Presidency  of  Washington 

College 200 

JEFFERSON  DAVIS 201 

A  Transcontinental  Railway  necessary  to  the  Union         „         .         .  203 

From  Senator  Davis's  Farewell  Speech  to  the  Senate      .         .         .  206 

EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 208 

A  Burst  of  Melody .         .         .  213 

Sonnet  —  To  Science 213 

To  Helen „  214 

Israfel 215 

To  One  in  Paradise 217 

At  School  in  England 218 

The  Conqueror  Worm 223 

The  City  in  the  Sea         .                          224 

The  Raven 226 

The  Cask  of  Amontillado 230 

The  Poetic  Principle 237 

Annabel  Lee 239 

ALBERT  PIKE 241 

To  Apollo        ...........  242 

Dixie        ............  242 

To  the  Mocking  Bird 244 

From  a  Tribute  to  Shelley,  written  in  1835 246 


CONTENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  STEPHENS 247 

A  Plea  for  Union ,  249 

WILLIAM  TAPPAN  THOMPSON „  252 

A  Novel  Courtship 253 

ALEXANDER  BEAUFORT  MEEK 258 

The  Mocking  Bird 259 

Balaklava 260 

Land  of  the  South 264 

JOSEPH  GLOVER  BALDWIN  .  266 

The  Virginian  in  the  Southwest 267 

A  Tribute  to  Henry  Clay 269 

JOHNSON  JONES  HOOPER 270 

The  Hero  Described 272 

Militia  Costumes  in  the  "  Flush  Times  " 273 

An  Intractable  Old  Woman 274 

PHILIP  PENDLETON  COOKE .  .  .  276 

The  Mountaineer 277 

Florence  Vane 278 

The  Art  pf  the  Poet 279 

THEODORE  O'HARA 280 

The  Bivouac  of  the  Dead 281 

HENRY  ROOTES  JACKSON 283 

The  Red  Old  Hills  of  Georgia 284 

My  Wife  and  Child 286 

WILLIAM  HENRY  TRESCOT -,  •  •  288 

The  Patriotic  Diplomats  of  the  Revolution  .  289 

Washington  and  Jay's  Treaty •  .  -  290 

JAMES  MATTHEWS  LEGARE 291 

To  a  Lily 292 

Haw-blossoms 293 

JAMES  BARRON  HOPE  .....•••••  295 

The  Charge  at  Balaklava 296 

Washington  and  Lee 3°° 

HENRY  TIMROD •  3°2 

Spring 3°4 

The  Cotton  Boll  .  . 3°6 

Katie ......  3» 

Carolina 312 

Charleston 3J5 

Ode 317 

PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 3*8 


XIV  CONTENTS 


PAGE 

A  Dream  of  the  South  Winds 320 

A  Passage  from  "  Fire  Pictures  " 321 

The  Solitary  Lake „  322 

Aspects  of  the  Pines 324 

The  Woodland  Phases 325 

Over  the  Waters 0  326 

To  Henry  W.  Longfellow 326 

The  Mocking-birds 327 

JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE 329 

An  Interior  with  Portraits        „         .         .         .                  .         .         .  330 

The  Band  in  the  Pines 333 

POETS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

MRS.  MARGARET  JUNKIN  PRESTON  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  337 

Gone  Forward 339 

The  Shade  of  the  Trees .  .  .  340 

The  Hero  of  the  Commune 341 

DR.  FRANCIS  ORRERY  TICKNOR 343 

Little  Giffen 343 

The  Virginians  of  the  Valley 345 

Virginia  .  346 

Lee 347 

Unknown 347 

Loyal 348 

Page  Brook 350 

JOHN  REUBEN  THOMPSON 351 

Ashby  .  . 352 

Music  in  Camp 353 

JAMES  RYDER  RANDALL 356 

My  Maryland 356 

John  Pelham 359 

Why  the  Robin's  Breast  is  Red 361 

ABRAM  JOSEPH  RYAN 361 

The  Conquered  Banner 362 

The  Sword  of  Robert  Lee 363 

WILLIAM  GORDON  McCABE 365 

Dreaming  in  the  Trenches 365 

Christmas  Night  of  '62 366 

John  Pegram 368 

Only  a  Memory 369 


'CONTENTS  XV 

.  PAGE 

ANONYMOUS 370 

The  Soldier  Boy 370 

"  The  Brigade  must  not  know,  Sir !" 371 

THIRD   PERIOD,   1866-1904 

INTRODUCTION        .        .        .        . 375 

RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON 381 

On  the  Morrow  of  Secession  . 382 

The  "  Dukesborough  "  Country 383 

A  Town  Darky  in  the  Country 385 

L.  Q.  C.  LAMAR 388 

The  Eulogy  of  Sumner 389 

CHARLES  COLCOCK  JONES,  JR 396 

The  Negro  and  the  Alligator 396 

MRS.  SUSAN  DABNEY  SMEDES  „ 400 

A  Hero  of  the  Old  South  .  .  .  ...  .  .401 

SIDNEY  LANIER 404 

Opposition 407 

Evening  Song 408 

The  Marshes  of  Glynn 409 

Extracts  from  Lanier's  Correspondence 413 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON  CABLE        .        .        .        ......        .417 

Some  Creole  Characters 418 

JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS  . 423 

Mr.  Benjamin  Ram  and  his  Wonderful  Fiddle  .  .  „  .  423 

Brother  Billy  Goat  eats  his  Dinner  .  ......  .  428 

JAMES  LANE  ALLEN 432 

The  Woods  are  Hushed  .  .  .  .  .  ....  .  432 

Miss  MARY  NOAILLES  MURFREE •  438 

A  Group  of  Pioneers  .  . 439 

Spring  and  Summer  in  East  Tennessee 442 

HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY 444 

The  New  South .'446 

Miss  GRACE  ELIZABETH  KING 453 

The  Burial  of  Gayarre 453 

De  Soto  and  Atahualpa  .  .  ,  . 455 

Cabeza  de  Vaca 456 

IRWIN  RUSSELL 457 

The  Banjo 45& 

Nebuchadnezzar 46° 


xvi  CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Norvern  People .        o        t        .461 

The  Cemetery !        .'    463 

THOMAS  NELSON  PAGE 6_ 


The  South  and  the  Historian  it  Needs 


464 


The  Old  Colonel 6_ 

WALTER  HINES  PAGE 459 

The  Tyranny  of  Caste 4^g 

The  New  Educational  Progress 47O 

The  Value  of  the  Child '!'.'.  472 

The  School  that  made  the  Town ~ 


LATTER-DAY  POETS 

JOHN  BANISTER  TABB 47- 

My  Star '.'.'.'.  475 

The  Half-ring  Moon 4»5 

Childhood .^ 

Keats  —  Sappho 4^5 

To  the  Babe  Niva 477 

To  Sidney  Lanier .'  .'  !  477 

CARLYLE  MCKINLEY '  477 

' 


GEORGE  HERBERT  SASS  .  . 480 

The  Confederate  Dead 48 r 

In  a  King-Cambyses  Vein  . 481 

AFace 483 

SAMUEL  MINTURN  PECK 484 

Alabama 48c 

Paul  Hamilton  Hayne 485 

The  Grapevine  Swing 486 

A  Southern  Girl 488 

Aunt  Jemima's  Quilt 489 

Phyllis '.    '.    '.  490 

From  "  A  Winter  Day "  .        .        .         .        .        .        .         .  492 

WILLIAM  HAMILTON  HAYNE 4o,2 

A  Cyclone  at  Sea '  .  492 

"  Sleep  and  his  Brother  Death  "  400 

The  Yule  Log '.        .  493 

YATES  SNOWDEN 494 

A  Carolina  Bourbon 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

HENRY  JEROME  STOCKARD    ....... 


At  Fordham 
To  an  Old  Oak 


MRS.  DANSKE  DANDRIDGE 
Silence 


.         .  499 

Glamour-land  ........  4qg 

The  Prelude     ...         ......         \  5OO 

The  Spirit  of  the  Fall      .........  5OI 

As  You  went  down  the  Road  ......  tO2 

ROBERT  LOVEMAN          .....        .....  cO2 

The  Races  Rise  and  Fall          .         .         .         ...         .         .502 

What  of  the  Men  of  Mars  ?  o 


Song 

A  Flake  at  a  Time 

I  Pined  in  a  Palace  Grand 


504 


In  Ancient  Greece  ..........  504 

The  Lily  Whispered  .........  505 

BENJAMIN  SLEDD  ...........  505 

United     ........         .         .         .         .505 

Dawn  and  the  Peak          .........  506 

To  Sappho       ...........  506 

The  Children  ...........  507 

MADISON  JULIUS  CAWEIN      .     •  ........  507 

Wood-words    ...........  508 

Rain  and  Wind        ..........  509 

Rest         ............  510 

Heart's  "Encouragement  .........  511 

Love  and  a  Day       ..........  512 

Requiescat       ...........  512 

Beauty  and  Art  ..........  514 

WALTER  MALONE  ...........  515 

October  in  Tennessee       .........  515 

A  Portrait  of  Henry  Timrod    ........  516 

Napoleon  and  Byron  .........  517 

LUCIEN  V.  RULE   ...........  518 

Absence  .....         .......  518 

Constancy  ...........  519 

APPENDIX       ............  521 

The  Bivouac  of  the  Dead  .  .......  521 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

THE  editor  wishes  to  make  grateful  acknowledgments  to  the 
many  persons  that  have  assisted  him  in  the  preparation  of  this 
book.  First  to  Mr.  Frederic  W.  Erb  of  the  Columbia  University 
Library,  whose  untiring  services  to  all  students  cannot  be  over 
praised.  Three  friends  have  read  the  proof-sheets  and  made 
valuable  suggestions  throughout,  thus  putting  the  editor  under 
the  deepest  obligations :  Mr.  Yates  Snowden  of  Charleston, 
Professor  John  B.  Henneman  of  the  University  of  the  South, 
and  Professor  Edwin  Minis  of  Trinity  College,  Durham,  North 
Carolina.  Professor  John  S.  Bassett  of  Trinity  College,  Pro 
fessor  W.  L.  Weber  of  Emory  College,  Georgia,  and  Mr.  Ludwig 
Lewisohn  of  New  York  have  also  rendered  kind  assistance. 
Mr.  Stedman's  help  has  been  acknowledged  in  a  note,  but  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  mention  his  friendly  offices  here,  as  well  as  those  of 
Professor  John  Bassett  Moore  and  Professor  Alce"e  Fortier. 
Other  friends  have  responded  generously  to  letters  of  inquiry. 

The  following  publishers  have  graciously  allowed  the  use  of 
copyrighted  materials,  due  acknowledgment  for  which  is  made 
at  the  proper  places  in  the  text :  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  &  Co.  (espe 
cially  for  permission  to  draw  on  Trent  and  Wells's  "  Colonial 
Prose  and  Poetry  "),  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  Harper  and  Brothers, 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.,  the  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  the 
B.  F.  Johnson  Company,  the  Lothrop,  Lee  and  Shepard  Com 
pany,  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  Hough  ton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  the  John 
Murphy  Company,  P.  J.  Kenedy,  the  Neale  Company,  James 
•Pott  &  Co.,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  The  Macmillan  Company, 
The  Century  Company,  Small,  Maynard  &  Co.,  the  Frederick 
A.  Stokes  Company,  the  publishers  of  The  Independent^  the 

xix 


XX  A  CKNO  WLEDGMENTS 

publishers  of  Collier's  Weekly,  the  publishers  of  The  Cosmo 
politan,  Richard  G.  Badger  &  Co.,  John  P.  Morton  &  Co.,  the 
Paul  and  Douglass  Company,  and  Herbert  S.  Stone  &  Co. 

The  following  authors  or  representatives  of  authors  have  also 
kindly  given  the  requisite  permission  to  make  selections  from 
copyrighted  works :  Captain  Robert  E.  Lee,  Yvon  Pike,  Esq., 
Professor  William  Hand  Browne,  Mrs.  George  W.  Ranck,  Mrs. 
Janey  Hope  Marr,  William  Hamilton  Hayne,  Esq.,  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Preston  Allan,  Mrs.  Leonore  M.  Ticknor,  James  Ryder  Randall, 
Esq.,  Captain  William  Gordon  McCabe,  Miss  Effie  E.  Johnston, 
Ex-Chancellor  Edward  Mayes,  Charles  Edgeworth  Jones,  Esq., 
Mrs.  Susan  Dabney  Smedes,  Mrs.  Sidney  Lanier,  George  W. 
Cable,  Esq.,  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  Esq.,  James  Lane  Allen, 
Esq.,  Thomas  Nelson  Page,  Esq.,  Walter  H.  Page,  Esq.,  Rev. 
John  B.  Tabb,  George  Herbert  Sass,  Esq.  ("  Barton  Grey"), 
•Dr.  Samuel  Minturn  Peck,  Yates  Snowden,  Esq.,  Professor 
Henry  Jerome  Stockard,  Mrs.  Danske  Dandridge,  Robert  Love- 
man,  Esq.,  Professor  Benjamin  Sledd,  Madison  J.  Cawein,  Esq., 
Judge  Walter  Malone,  and  Lucien  V.  Rule,  Esq. 


FIRST   PERIOD 

THE  LITERATURE    OF  THE   COLONIES  AND 
THE  REVOLUTION 

1607-1789 


INTRODUCTION 

THROUGHOUT  this  entire  period  of  nearly  two  hundred  years  of 
American  history,  literature  in  the  strictly  aesthetic  sense  of  the 
term  is  almost  non-existent.  Apart,  for  example,  from  the  work 
of  Philip  Freneau,  it  would  be  hard  to  name  ten  poems  written  in 
early  America  that  give  genuine  pleasure  to  the  modern  reader. 
Not  a  single  good  novel  or  drama  was  published  in  the  country 
before  Washington  became  President.  There  was  no  real  man  of 
letters,  the  two  most  important  authors  of  the  period,  Jonathan 
Edwards  and  Benjamin  Franklin,  being  famous,  the  one  as  theo 
logian  and  metaphysician,  the  other  as  scientist,  statesman,  philan 
thropist,  and  man  of  affairs.  Of  the  few  prose  works  which  one 
can  still  read  with  true  pleasure,  Franklin's  "  Autobiography,"  John 
Woolman's  "Journal,"  Colonel  William  Byrd's  "History  of  the 
Dividing  Line,"  and  Crevecoeur's  "Letters  from  an  American 
Farmer,"  not  one  belongs,  strictly  speaking,  to  imaginative  lit 
erature.  There  were  good  annalists,  but  no  great  historians ; 
there  were  learned  and  earnest  divines,  but  none  gifted  with 
marked  literary  ability;  there  were  fervid  orators  like  James  Otis, 
Patrick  Henry,  and  Christopher  Gadsden,  and  able  publicists  like 
Jefferson,  Hamilton,  Madison,  and  Dickinson  ;  but  not  one  of  them 
has  obtained  a  place  in  literature  comparable  with  that  held  by  the 
orator-publicist,  Edmund  Burke.  It  could  hardly  have  been  other 
wise  in  a  group  of  struggling  colonies.  But  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  writing,  especially  in  New  England,  and  the  books,  sermons, 
speeches,  pamphlets,  and  correspondence  of  the  period  are  of 
great  value  to  the  historian,  as  well  as  to  the  reader  interested  to 
know  what  manner  of  men  his  ancestors  were.  The  Southern 
reader  has  a  scantier  stock  of  material  from  which  to  secure  such 
knowledge  than  the  New  Englander  possesses,  for  the  art  of  writ- 

3 


4  INTRODUCTION 

ing  has  never  been  extensively  practised  by  a  people  chiefly  en 
gaged  in  agriculture.  But  even  in  the  Colonial  South  interesting 
books  were  written  by  interesting  men ;  and  in  the  Revolution  South 
erners  came  to  the  front  as  soldiers,  orators,  and  statesmen  in  a  way 
which  proves  that  Anglo-Saxon  love  of  liberty  and  genius  for  af 
fairs  were  strengthened  rather  than  weakened  by  their  transfer  to 
the  New  World. 

Only  a  few  of  these  early  Southern  writers  can  be  represented  in 
such  a  volume  as  the  present,  but  in  those  few  some  very  great 
names  are  found  —  among  them  that  of  the  greatest  of  all  Ameri 
cans,  the  truly  styled  Father  of  his  Country,  whose  character  as 
shown  in  his  writings  was  never  more  needed  as  an  example  than 
at  this  moment.  Next  to  Washington  stands  Jefferson,  the  great 
est  of  American  political  idealists,  and  next  to  Jefferson  stands 
Madison,  the  most  learned,  patiently  thoughtful,  and  conservative 
of  our  statesmen.  These  three,  with  Patrick  Henry,  would  alone 
suffice  to  show  how  great  was  the  part  played  in  the  Revolution, 
not  merely  by  the  South  but  by  one  state,  Virginia.  There  were 
other  Virginian  patriots,  however,  like  Richard  Henry  Lee  and 
George  Mason,  and  there  were  Carolinians  and  Georgians  who 
did  noble  service  in  achieving  American  independence.  There 
was  no  more  incorruptible  and  sturdy  patriot  than  Henry  Laurens. 
There  was  no  more  authoritative  voice  lifted  in  favor  of  national 
independence  than  that  of  another  South  Carolinian,  Chief  Justice 
William  Henry  Drayton  (1742-1779),  learned  jurist  and  bold 
pamphleteer.1 

The  student  of  early  Southern  literature  is  not  obliged,  however, 
to  confine  his  attention  to  statesmen  and  publicists.  He  finds  not 
a  few  descriptive  and  historical  tracts  that  are  interesting  as  well 
as  instructive,  and  in  William  Stith  (1689-1755),  the  Reverend 
President  of  William  and  Mary  College,  he  discovers  a  scholarly 
historian  worthy  to  rank  with  the  New  Englander,  Thomas  Prince. 
In  Colonel  William  Byrd  he  is  justified  in  seeing  the  most  sprightly, 

l  See  Tyler's  "  Literary  History  of  the  American  Revolution,"  i,  491-493.  Dray- 
ton  left  two  manuscript  volumes  describing  the  Revolution  in  the  South  which  were 
used  by  his  son,  John  Drayton,  in  preparing  his  "  Memoirs  of  the  American  Revolu 
tion"  (1821). 


INTR  OD  UC  TION  5 

cultured,  and  interesting  writer  born  in  the  colonies  before  Frank 
lin.  In  reading  Robert  Beverley  he  perceives  that  country  gentle 
men  could  manage  affairs  and  a  ready  pen  as  well  as  they  could  a 
large  plantation.  In  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Eliza  Wilkinson  he  recog 
nizes  the  charm  and  the  vivacity  that  have  ever  been  regarded  as 
the  dower  of  Southern  women.  If  he  goes  farther  afield  than  this 
volume,  he  will  derive  profit  and  some  pleasure  from  reading  the 
narrative  and  descriptive  tracts  of  George  Percy,  William  Strachey, 
Alexander  Whitaker,  John  Hammond,  George  Alsop,  and  Colonel 
Henry  Norwood.  The  Rev.  Hugh  Jones,  John  Lawson,  and 
Patrick  Tailfer  need  not  be  entirely  unfamiliar  names  to  him  if  he 
is  a  sufficiently  patriotic  Virginian,  North  Carolinian,  or  Georgian 
to  make  him  look  up  their  writings.  He  may  find  less  to  attract 
him  in  such  theologians  as  James  Blair,  Samuel  Davies,  and  Alex 
ander  Garden  (1685-1756),  but  he  cannot  fail  to  find  them  inter 
esting  men.  At  the  very  least  he  ought  to  read  about  these  early 
Southerners  in  connection  with  the  other  colonists  who  laid  the 
foundations  of  American  literature.  To  do  this  should  not  prove 
to  be  an  unpleasant  task,  for  the  four  volumes  of  the  late  Pro 
fessor  Moses  Coit  Tyler  deal  in  a  very  attractive  way1  with  the 
entire  range  of  American  literature  from  the  planting  of  the  colo 
nies  to  the  Treaty  of  Paris. 


CAPTAIN   JOHN    SMITH 

[THE  famous  Captain  Smith  cannot  with  any  fairness  be  claimed  as  an 
American  writer,  and,  if  he  could,  it  would  be  difficult  to  prove  that  he  is 
the  peculiar  property  of  the  South.  Nevertheless,  as  he  wrote  the  first  book 
composed  by  an  Englishman  upon  the  soil  of  what  is  now  the  United  States, 
and  as  this  "True  Relation"  dealt  with  "Such  Occurrences  and  Accidents  of 
Note  as  Hath  Happened  in  Virginia,"  it  would  seem  proper  to  make  his  the 

1  The  first  two  volumes  of  Tyler's  "  History  of  American  Literature  "  appeared 
in  1878  and  carried  the  narrative  to  1765.  Tho  two  volumes  devoted  to  the  Revolu 
tion  appeared  in  1897.  For  briefer  accounts  of  the  beginnings  of  American  litera 
ture  see  the  histories  by  Richardson,  Wendell,  and  Trent.  For  a  large  variety  of 
specimens  of  early  writings  see  Stedman  and  Hutchinson's  "  Library  of  American 
Literature,"  Vols.  I-III  ;  also  Duyckinck's  "Cyclopaedia  of  American  Literature," 
and  Trent  and  Wells's  "  Colonial  Prose  and  Poetry"  (3  vols.). 


6  CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH  , 

first  name  in  a  volume  of  selections  from  Southern  writers.  And  if  Smith 
be  admitted,  there  can  be  little  question  that  he  should  be  brought  before  us 
along  with  the  Indian  Princess  who  is  said  to  have  saved  his  life.  But  some 
have  held  that  this  romantic  event  never  took  place  and  have  based  their 
belief  chiefly  upon  the  discrepancies  revealed  through  a  comparison  of  the 
passages  here  given  from  the  "True  Relation"  and  the  "General  History," 
in  only  the  latter  of  which  is  Pocahontas  mentioned.  This  is  no  place  to 
defend  the  gallant  Captain,  who  was  certainly  gifted  in  drawing  the  long 
bow  ;  yet  it  should  be  said  in  his  behalf  that  well-qualified  historians  have  not 
hesitated  to  accept  what  other  historians  have  regarded  as  the  Pocahontas 
legend.  Nor  is  there  room  to  recount  even  briefly  his  other  strange  adven 
tures,  or  to  give  more  than  the  barest  outlines  of  his  life. 

He  was  born  at  Willoughby  in  Lincolnshire,  in  January,  1579,  and  died  at 
London  on  the  2ist  of  June,  1632.  The  son  of  a  tenant  farmer,  apprenticed  to 
trade,  he  ran  away  to  serve  in  the  Netherlands  and  afterwards  fought  in  Hun 
gary  and  Transylvania,  against  the  Turks.  He  was  captured,  and  enslaved, 
escaped  to  Russia,  returned  to  England  in  1605,  and  the  next  year  accom 
panied  Newport's  expedition  to  Virginia.  The  opposition  shown  him  by  the 
authorities  was  overcome  through  his  skill  in  reconnoitring  and  his  success  in 
obtaining  supplies.  While  exploring  the  James  River  in  1607,  he  was  cap 
tured  by  Indians,  brought  before  their  chief,  Powhatan,  saved  as  he  claimed 
from  death  by  the  intervention  of  Pocahontas,  and  sent  back  to  Jamestown 
after  six  weeks'  captivity.  Later  he  explored  the  Chesapeake,  was  for  a 
time  Colonial  President,  returned  to  England  in  1609,  and  five  years  later 
explored  the  coast  of  New  England.  A  third  expedition  in  1616  resulted  in 
his  capture  by  the  French.  He  escaped,  but  was  unable  to  secure  means  to 
continue  his  explorations.  Typical  of  his  many  writings  is  the  first,  "  A  True 
Relation"  (1608);  clumsy,  formless,  inartistic,  yet  interesting  because  full  of 
life.  He  wrote  also  "A  Description  of  New  England"  (1616),  "New  Eng 
land's  Trials"  (1620),  "The  General  History  of  Virginia,  New  England  and 
the  Summer  Isles"  (1624),  and  a  few  less  significant  books.  The  best 
edition  of  Smith's  works  is  that  of  Edward  Arber  (1884).  There  is  a 
biography  by  the  late  Charles  Dudley  Warner  (1881),  and  a  number  of 
scholars  have  discussed  the  Captain's  accuracy.  Charles  Deane  and  John 
Fiske  of  Massachusetts  (see  "Old  Virginia  and  her  Neighbors")  were  respec 
tively  against  and  for  him.  Virginian  scholars  also  divided.  His  chief 
Virginian  critic  is  Mr.  Alexander  Brown,  whose  "Genesis  of  the  United 
States"  (1890)  and  other  books  furnish  clear  evidence  of  the  zeal  with  which 
Southern  scholars  are  devoting  themselves  to  history.  See  Deane's  edition 
of  the  "True  Relation"  (1866)  and,  in  Smith's  behalf,  the  late  William  Wirt 
Henry's  paper  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Virginia  Historical  Society  for  1882.] 


POWHATAN'S    TREATMENT   OF  SMITH 


POWHATAN'S   TREATMENT   OF   SMITH1 
[FROM  "A  TRUE  RELATION  OF  SUCH  OCCURRENCES  AND  ACCIDENTS  OF 

NOTE   AS   HATH   HAPPENED   IN   VIRGINIA,"   ETC.      LONDON,    1608.] 

ARRIVING  at  Weramocomoco  their  Emperor  proudly  lying  upon 
a  bedstead  a  foot  high,  upon  ten  or  twelve  mats  richly  hung  with 
many  chains  of  great  pearls  about  his  neck,  and  covered  with  a 
great  covering  of  Rahaughcums.2  At  [his]  head  sat  a  woman,  at 
his  feet  another ;  on  each  side  sitting  upon  a  mat  upon  the  ground, 
were  ranged  his  chief  men  on  each  side  the  fire,  ten  in  a  rank  and 
behind  them  as  many  young  women,  each  a  great  chain  of  white 
beads  over  their  shoulders,  their  heads  painted  in  red ;  and  with 
such  a  grave  and  majestical  countenance,  as  drave  me  into  admi 
ration  to  see  such  state  in  a  naked  savage. 

He  kindly  welcomed  me  with  good  words,  and  great  platters  of 
sundry  victuals,  assuring  me  his  friendship,  and  my  liberty  within 
four  days.  He  much  delighted  in  Opechan  Comough's  relation  of 
what  I  had  described  to  him,  and  oft  examined  me  upon  the  same. 

He  asked  me  the  cause  of  our  coming. 

I  told  him  being  in  fight  with  the  Spaniards,  our  enemy,  being 
overpowered,  near  put  to  retreat,  and  by  extreme  weather  put  to 
this  shore,  where  landing  at  Chesipiack,  the  people  shot  us,  but  at 
Kequoughtan  they  kindly  used  us ;  we  by  signs  demanded  fresh 
water,  they  described  us  up  the  river  was  all  fresh  water :  at  Pas- 
pahegh  also  they  kindly  used  us  :  our  pinnace  being  leaky,  we 
were  enforced  to  stay  to  mend  her,  till  Captain  Newport,  my 
father,  came  to  conduct  us  away. 

He  demanded  why  we  went  further  with  our  boat.  I  told  him, 
in  that  I  would  have  occasion  to  talk  of  the  back  sea,  that  on  the 
other  side  the  main,  where  was  salt  water,  my  father  had  a  child 
slain  which  we  supposed  Monocan,  his  enemy  [had  done]  ;  whose 
death  we  intended  to  revenge. 

After  good  deliberation,  he  began  to  describe  me  the  countries 

1  The  spelling  and  punctuation  of  all  the  extracts  from  the  earlier  writers  has 
been  in  the  main  modernized  except  for  some  proper  names. 

2  Explained  in  the  second  extract. 


8  CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH 

beyond  the  falls,  with  many  of  the  rest ;  confirming  what  not  only 
Opechancanoyes,  and  an  Indian  which  had  been  prisoner  to  Pew- 
hatan  had  before  told  me  :  but  some  called  it  five  days,  some  six, 
some  eight,  where  the  said  water  dashed  amongst  many  stones  and 
rocks,  each  storm ;  which  caused  oft  times  the  head  of  the  river 
to  be  brackish. 

Anchanachuck  he  described  to  be  the  people  that  had  slain  my 
brother  :  whose  death  he  would  revenge.  He  described  also  upon 
the  same  sea,  a  mighty  nation  called  Pocoughtronack,  a  fierce 
nation  that  did  eat  men,  and  warred  with  the  people  of  Moya- 
oncer  and  Pataromerke,  nations  upon  the  top  of  the  head  of  the 
Bay,  under  his  territories  :  where  the  year  before  they  had  slain  an 
hundred.  He  signified  their  crowns  were  shaven,  long  hair  in  the 
neck,  tied  on  a  knot,  swords  like  pollaxes. 

Beyond  them,  he  described  people  with  short  coats,  and  sleeves 
to  the  elbows,  that  passed  that  way  in  ships  like  ours.  Many  king 
doms  he  described  me,  to  the  head  of  the  bay,  which  seemed  to 
be  a  mighty  river  issuing  from  mighty  mountains  betwixt  the  two 
seas.  The  people  clothed  at  Ocamahowan,  he  also  confirmed. 
And  the  southerly  countries  also,  as  the  rest  that  reported  us  to 
be  within  a  day  and  a  half  of  Mangoge,  two  days  of  Chawwonock, 
six  from  Roonock,  to  the  south  part  of  the  back  sea.  He  de 
scribed  a  country  called  Anone,  where  they  have  abundance  of 
brass,  and  houses  walled  as  ours. 

I  requited  his  discourse  (seeing  what  pride  he  had  in  his  great 
and  spacious  dominions,  seeing  that  all  he  knew  were  under  his 
territories)  in  describing  to  him  the  territories  of  Europe,  which 
was  subject  to  our  great  king  whose  subject  I  was,  the  innumerable 
multitude  of  his  ships,  [and]  I  gave  him  to  understand  the  noise 
of  trumpets,  and  terrible  manner  of  fighting  [which]  were  under 
Captain  Newport  my  father :  whom  I  intituled  the  Meworames, 
which  they  call  the  king  of  all  the  waters.  At  his  greatness  he 
admired  :  and  not  a  little  feared.  He  desired  me  to  forsake  Pas- 
pahegh,  and  to  live  with  him  upon  his  river,  a  country  called  Capa 
Howasicke.  He  promised  to  give  me  corn,  venison,  or  what  I 
wanted  to  feed  us  :  hatchets  and  copper  we  should  make  him,  and 
none  should  disturb  us. 


THE  POCAHONTAS  INCIDENT 


THE  POCAHONTAS  INCIDENT  — THE  LATER  VERSION 
OF  POWHATAN'S  TREATMENT  OF  SMITH 

[FROM   THE   "GENERAL   HISTORY  OF  VIRGINIA,"   ETC.  (1624),   LlB.   III.] 

OPITCHAPAM  the  King's  brother  invited  him  to  his  house,  where, 
with  as  many  platters  of  bread,  fowl,  and  wild  beasts,  as  did  envi 
ron  him,  he  bid  him  welcome ;  but  not  any  of  them  would  eat  a 
bit  with  him,  but  put  up  all  the  remainder  in  baskets. 

At  his  return  to  Opechancanough's  all  the  King's  women  and 
their  children,  flocked  about  him  for  their  parts,  as  a  due  by  cus 
tom,  to  be  merry  with  such  fragments. 

But  his  waking  mind  in  hideous  dreams  did  oft  see  wondrous  shapes 
Of  bodies  strange  and  huge  in  growth,  and  of  stupendous  makes. 

At  last  they  brought  him  to  Werowocomoco,  where  was  Powhatan 
their  Emperor.  Here  more  than  two  hundred  of  those  grim  cour 
tiers  stood  wondering  at  him,  as  he  had  been  a  monster ;  till  Pow 
hatan  and  his  train  had  put  themselves  in  their  greatest  braveries. 
Before  a  fire  upon  a  seat  like  a  bedstead,  he  sat  covered  with  a 
great  robe,  made  of  raccoon  skins  and  all  the  tails  hanging  by.  On 
either  hand  did  sit  a  young  wench  of  16  or  18  years,  and  along  on 
each  side  the  house,  two  rows  of  men,  and  behind  them  as  many 
women,  with  all  their  heads  and  shoulders  painted  red ;  many  of 
their  heads  bedecked  with  the  white  down  of  birds  ;  but  every  one 
with  something  :  and  a  great  chain  of  white  beads  about  their  necks. 

At  his  entrance  before  the  King,  all  the  people  gave  a  great 
shout.  The  Queen  of  Appamatuck  was  appointed  to  bring  him 
water  to  wash  his  hands,  and  another  brought  him  a  bunch  of 
feathers,  instead  of  a  towel  to  dry  them.  Having  feasted  him  after 
their  best  barbarous  manner  they  could,  a  long  consultation  was 
held,  but  the  conclusion  was,  two  great  stones  were  brought  before 
Powhatan  :  then  as  many  as  could  laid  hands  on  him,  dragged  him 
to  them,  and  thereon  laid  his  head,  and  being  ready  with  their 
clubs,  to  beat  out  his  brains,  Pocahontas  the  King's  dearest  daugh 
ter,  when  no  entreaty  could  prevail,  got  his  head  in  her  arms,  and 


IO  CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH 

laid  her  own  upon  his  to  save  his  from  death  :  whereat  the  Em 
peror  was  contented  he  should  live  to  make  him  hatchets,  and  her 
bells,  beads,  and  copper ;  for  they  thought  him  as  well  of  all  occu 
pations  as  themselves.  For  the  King  himself  will  make  his  own 
robes,  shoes,  bows,  arrows,  pots ;  plant,  hunt,  or  do  any  thing  so 

well  as  the  rest. 

They  say  he  bore  a  pleasant  show, 
But  sure  his  heart  was  sad. 
For  who  can  pleasant  be,  and  rest, 
That  lives  in  fear  and  dread : 
And  having  life  suspected,  doth 
It  still  suspected  lead. 

Two  days  after,  Powhatan  having  disguised  himself  in  the  most 
fearfulest  manner  he  could,  caused  Captain  Smith  to  be  brought 
forth  to  a  great  house  in  the  woods,  and  there  upon  a  mat  by  the 
fire  to  be  left  alone.  Not  long  after  from  behind  a  mat  that  di 
vided  the  house,  was  made  the  most  dolefulest  noise  he  ever  heard  : 
then  Powhatan  more  like  a  devil  than  a  man,  with  some  two  hun 
dred  more  as  black  as  himself,  came  unto  him  and  told  him  now 
they  were  friends,  and  presently  he  should  go  to  Jamestown,  to 
send  him  two  great  guns,  and  a  grindstone,  for  which  he  would 
give  him  the  Country  of  Capahowosick,  and  for  ever  esteem  him  as 
his  son  Nantaquoud. 

So  to  Jamestown  with  12  guides  Powhatan  sent  him.  That 
night  they  quartered  in  the  woods,  he  still  expecting  (as  he  had 
done  all  this  long  time  of  his  imprisonment)  every  hour  to  be  put 
to  one  death  or  other  for  all  their  feasting.  But  almighty  God 
by  his  divine  providence,  had  mollified  the  hearts  of  those  stern 
barbarians  with  compassion.  The  next  morning  betimes  they  came 
to  the  fort,  where  Smith  having  used  the  savages  with  what  kind 
ness  he  could,  he  showed  Rawhunt,  Powhatan's  trusty  servant,  two 
demi-culverins  and  a  millstone  to  carry  Powhatan :  they  found 
them  somewhat  too  heavy ;  but  when  they  did  see  him  discharge 
them,  being  loaded  with  stones,  among  the  boughs  of  a  great  tree 
loaded  with  icicles,  the  ice  and  branches  came  so  tumbling  down, 
that  the  poor  savages  ran  away  half  dead  with  fear.  But  at  last  we 
regained  some  confidence  with  them,  and  gave  them  such  toys, 


NARRA  TIVES  DEALING  WITH  BA  CON  >S  REBELLION       \  I 

and  sent  to  Powhatan  his  women,  and  children  such  presents,  as 
gave  them  in  general  full  content. 


NARRATIVES   DEALING  WITH    BACON'S 
REBELLION 

[No  event  in  the  Southern  colonies  before  the  Revolution  caused  greater 
literary  activity,  or  was  more  characteristic  of  the  independent  temper  bred  in 
Englishmen  by  their  new  surroundings  than  the  popular  uprising  in  1676  known 
as  "  Bacon's  Rebellion."  During  the  English  Protectorate,  Governor  Berkeley, 
who  had  taken  the  Royal  side,  had  been  forced  to  resign  his  authority.  He 
was  reinstated  at  the  Restoration,  in  1660,  and  surpassed  his  royal  master  in 
taxation  and  in  persecution,  especially  of  the  Baptists  and  the  Quakers.  He 
abolished  also  the  biennial  election  of  Burgesses.  This  led  to  popular  discon 
tent,  which  was  intensified  by  the  conduct  of  King  Charles  II,  who  treated 
Virginia  as  his  personal  property,  making  large  grants  to  court  favorites,  and 
countenancing  laws  that  produced  great  uncertainty  and  distress  among  the 
planters.  The  assembly,  assuming  to  be  a  perpetual  body,  sought  to  make  itself 
independent  by  a  permanent  impost  on  exported  tobacco.  All  this,  added 
to  the  corruption,  tyranny,  and  inefficiency  of  Governor  Berkeley,  who  seemed 
unwilling  to  give  the  colonists  adequate  protection  from  raids  by  the  Indians 
whose  trade  he  sought,  produced  a  growing  discontent  that  needed  only  the  pres 
ence  of  a  sturdy  leader  to  burst  into  overt  rebellion.  Such  a  leader  was  found 
in  Nathaniel  Bacon,  a  young  man  of  wealth  and  the  best  English  training,  who, 
in  defiance  of  the  Governor,  took  the  field  against  the  Indians  and  was  enthu 
siastically  supported  by  the  mass  of  the  people  and  the  smaller  planters.  This 
was  in  April,  1676.  In  May,  Berkeley  proclaimed  Bacon  a  traitor.  In  June, 
however,  the  assembly  enacted  the  so-called  "  Bacon  Laws,"  a  series  of  reform 
measures,  and  that  leader  was  appointed  commander-in-chief  against  the  Indians. 
In  July  the  reform  party  seem  to  have  achieved  a  legislative  triumph,  and  in 
August  a  popular  convention  which  met  at  Williamsburg  voted  to  sustain  Bacon 
against  the  Indians  and  to  prevent,  if  possible,  a  civil  war;  but  the  sudden  sick 
ness  and  death  of  Bacon  in  October  deprived  the  popular  party  of  its  only  effi 
cient  leader,  and  Berkeley  reestablished  his  tyranny  by  such  general,  hurried, 
and  indecent  executions  that  the  king,  who  speedily  recalled  him  to  England,  is 
said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  The  old  fool  has  taken  more  lives  in  his  naked  country 
than  I  for  my  father's  murder."  The  character  of  Berkeley's  administration  may 
be  gathered  from  his  often  quoted  reply  to  the  Commissioners  of  Plantations 
(1670)  :  "But,  I  thank  God,  there  are  no  free  schools  nor  printing,  and  I  hope  we 
shall  not  have  these  hundred  years;  for  learning  has  brought  disobedience, 
and  heresy  and  sects  into  the  world,  and  printing  has  divulged  them,  and  libels 


12       NARRATIVES  DEALING   WITH  BACON'S  REBELLION 

against  the  best  government.  God  keep  us  from  both."  The  rebellion  which  this 
intolerance  caused  had  a  romantic  character  that  appealed  to  contemporary 
chroniclers  as  it  has  to  later  romancers.  There  is  an  anonymous  "  History  of 
Bacon's  and  Ingram's  Rebellion,"  known  as  "  The  Burwell  Papers,"  printed  by 
the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society  in  1814  and  again  more  correctly  in  1866. 
Though  incomplete  it  is  a  thoroughly  readable  narrative,  a  little  pedantic 
and  affected  and  pronounced  in  its  sympathy  with  the  aristocratic  party. 
The  writer  has  been  conjecturally  identified  with  a  planter,  Cotton  of  Acquia 
Creek,  possibly  the  author  of  a  concise  account  entitled  "  Strange  News  from 
Virginia  "  (1677).  Another  short  account  written  in  1705  by  a  certain  T.  M., 
probably  Thomas  Matthews,  a  Burgess  of  Stafford  County  and  a  man  of  genial 
credulity,  furnishes  interesting  material.  But  neither  of  these  writers  ap 
proaches,  in  literary  power,  that  unknown  Bacon's  "  man  "  who  wrote  upon 
his  master  the  really  noble  epitaph  that  follows.  This  poem,  the  historian  of 
colonial  literature,  the  late  Professor  Moses  Coit  Tyler,  pronounced  to  be  a 
"  noble  dirge,"  and  it  would  surely  be  difficult  to  produce  better  verses 
written  in  America  before  the  days  of  Freneau.1] 


BACON'S   DEATH 
[FROM  "THE  BURWELL  PAPERS."    TEXT  OF  1866.] 

BACON  having  for  some  time  been  besieged  by  sickness,  and  now 
not  able  to  hold  out  any  longer,  all  his  strength  and  provisions 
being  spent,  surrendered  up  that  fort  he  was  no  longer  able  to 
keep,  into  the  hands  of  that  grim  and  all-conquering  captain, 
Death,  after  that  he  had  implored  the  assistance  of  the  above- 
mentioned  minister,  for  the  well  making  his  articles  of  rendition. 
The  only  religious  duty  (as  they  say)  he  was  observed  to  perform 
during  these  intrigues  of  affairs,  in  which  he  was  so  considerable 
an  actor,  and  so  much  concerned,  that  rather  than  he  would  de 
cline  the  cause,  he  became  so  deeply  engaged  in  the  first  rise 
thereof,  though  much  urged  by  arguments  of  dehortations  by 
his  nearest  relations  and  best  friends,  that  he  subjected  himself  to 
all  those  inconveniences  that,  singly,  might  bring  a  man  of  a  more 
robust  frame  to  his  last  home.  After  he  was  dead  he  was  be 
moaned  in  these  following  lines,  drawn  by  the  man  that  waited 
upon  his  person  (as  it  is  said),  and  who  attended  his  corpse  to 
their  burial  place ;  but  where  deposited  till  the  general  day,  not 

l  All  the  above  documents  can  be  found  in  Vol.  I  of  Force's  "  Tracts." 


BACON'S  EPITAPH,  MADE  BY  HIS  MAN  13 

known,  only  to  those  who  are  resolutely  silent  in  that  particular. 
There  was  many  copies  of  verses  made  after  his  departure,  calcu 
lated  to  the  latitude  of  their  affections  who  composed  them ;  as  a 
relish  taken  from  both  appetites  I  have  here  sent  you  a  couple : * 


BACON'S  EPITAPH,  MADE  BY  HIS  MAN 

DEATH,  why  so  cruel  ?    What !  no  other  way 
To  manifest  thy  spleen,  but  thus  to  slay 
Our  hopes  of  safety,  liberty,  our  all, 
Which,  through  thy  tyranny,  with  him  must  fall 
To  its  late  chaos  ?     Had  thy  rigid  force 
Been  dealt  by  retail,  and  not  thus  in  gross, 
Grief  had  been  silent.     Now  we  must  complain, 
Since  thou,  in  him,  hast  more  than  thousand  slain, 
Whose  lives  and  safeties  did  so  much  depend 
On  him  their  life,  with  him  their  lives  must  end. 

If  't  be  a  sin  to  think  Death  brib'd  can  be 
We  must  be  guilty ;  say  'twas  bribery 
Guided  the  fatal  shaft.     Virginia's  foes, 
To  whom  for  secret  crimes  just  vengeance  owes 
Deserved  plagues,  dreading  their  just  desert, 
Corrupted  Death  by  Paracelsian 2  art 
Him  to  destroy ;  whose  well  tried  courage  such, 
Their  heartless  hearts,  nor  arms,  nor  strength  could  touch. 

Who  now  must  heal  those  wounds,  or  stop  that  blood 
The  heathen  made,  and  drew  into  a  flood? 
Who  is  't  must  plead  our  cause  ?  nor  trump,  nor  drum 
Nor  deputations  ;  these,  alas  !  are  dumb 
And  cannot  speak.     Our  Arms  (though  ne'er  so  strong) 
Will  want  the  aid  of  his  commanding  tongue, 
Which  conquer'd  more  than  Caesar.     He  o'erthrew 
Only  the  outward  frame  :  this  could  subdue 

1  The  satiric  reply  to  the  "  Epitaph  "  is  not  reprinted  here. 

2  I.e.  the  art  of  the  physician  or  of  the  quack  —  derived   from   Paracelsus 
(1493-1541),  the  Swiss  alchemist  and  physician.    See  Browning's  poem  that  bears 
his  name. 


14  ROBERT  BEVERLEY 

The  rugged  works  of  nature.     Souls  replete 
With  dull  chilPd  cold,  he'd  animate  with  heat 
Drawn  forth  of  reason's  limbec.     In  a  word, 
Mars  and  Minerva  both  in  him  concurred 
For  arts,  for  arms,  whose  pen  and  sword  alike 
As  Cato's  did,  may  admiration  strike 
Into  his  foes ;  while  they  confess  withal 
It  was  their  guilt  styl'd  him  a  criminal. 
Only  this  difference  doth  from  truth  proceed : 
They  in  the  guilt,  he  in  the  name  must  bleed, 
While  none  shall  dare  his  obsequies  to  sing 
In  deserv'd  measures ;  until  time  shall  bring 
Truth  crown'd  with  freedom,  and  from  danger  free 
To  sound  his  praises  to  posterity. 

Here  let  him  rest;  while  we  this  truth  report 
He's  gone  from  hence  unto  a  higher  Court 
To  plead  his  cause,  where  he  by  this  doth  know 
Whether  to  Caesar  he  was  friend,  or  foe. 


ROBERT  BEVERLEY 

[ABOUT  Robert  Beverley,  the  most  interesting  and  one  of  the  most  impor 
tant  of  the  early  historians  of  Virginia,  not  much  that  is  definite  is  known. 
Some  accounts  have  it  that  he  was  born  in  that  colony  about  1675  anc^  died 
there  in  1716.  Others  place  his  birth  about  1670  and  his  death  about  1735.  He 
was  educated  in  England  and  in  1697  he  succeeded  his  father,  Major  Robert 
Beverley,  as  Clerk  of  the  Council  of  Virginia,  under  Governor  Andros.  This 
office  gave  him  access  to  documentary  records,  and  in  1705,  for  reasons  given 
in  the  first  selection,  he  published  in  London  a  "  History  and  Present  State 
of  Virginia,"  in  four  books.  This  was  not  merely  an  account  of  contemporary 
conditions,  social  and  economic,  though  it  furnishes  us  with  intimate  details  of 
the  daily  life  in  Virginia  during  the  first  century  of  its  settlement ;  it  gave 
also  an  account  of  the  settlement  of  the  colony  and  of  its  history.  The  work 
attracted  so  much  attention  that  two  years  after  its  first  appearance  a  French 
translation  of  it  with  fourteen  woodcuts  appeared  in  Amsterdam,  and  these 
illustrations  were  used  in  a  second  English  edition  in  1722.  The  book  was 
not  again  printed  until  1855,  but  whether  much  read  or  not,  Beverley  deserves 
the  distinction  of  being  remembered  as  a  farsighted,  patriotic  citizen,  and  a 
sensible,  sprightly  writer.] 


HOW  HE   CAME    TO   WRITE  15 


HOW  HE  CAME   TO  WRITE 

[FROM  THE  PREFACE  TO  THE  "HISTORY  AND   PRESENT   STATE  OF  VIR 
GINIA."    EDITION  OF  1722.] 

MY  first  business  in  the  world  being  among  the  public  records 
of  my  country,  the  active  thoughts  of  my  youth  put  me  upon  tak 
ing  notes  of  the  general  administration  of  the  government ;  but 
with  no  other  design  than  the  gratification  of  my  own  inquisitive 
mind ;  these  lay  by  me  for  many  years  afterwards,  obscure  and 
secret,  and  would  forever  have  done  so,  had  not  the  following 
accident  produced  them. 

In  the  year  1 703,  my  affairs  calling  me  to  England,  I  was  soon 
after  my  arrival,  complimented  by  my  bookseller  with  an  intima 
tion,  that  there  was  prepared  for  printing  a  general  account  of  all 
her  Majesty's  Plantations  in  America,  and  his  desire  that  I  would 
overlook  it  before  it  was  put  to  the  press ;  I  agreed  to  overlook 
that  part  of  it  which  related  to  Virginia. 

Soon  after  this  he  brings  me  about  six  sheets  of  paper  written, 
which  contained  the  account  of  Virginia  and  Carolina.  This  it 
seems  was  to  have  answered  a  part  of  Mr.  Oldmixon's  British 
Empire  in  America. l  I  very  innocently  (when  I  began  to  read) 
placed  pen  and  paper  by  me,  and  made  my  observations  upon  the 
first  page,  but  found  it  in  the  sequel  so  very  faulty,  and  an  abridge 
ment  only  of  some  accounts  that  had  been  printed  60  or  70  years 
ago ;  in  which  also  he  had  chosen  the  most  strange  and  untrue 
parts,  and  left  out  the  most  sincere  and  faithful,  so  that  I  laid  aside 
all  thoughts  of  farther  observations,  and  gave  it  only  a  reading ; 
and  my  bookseller  for  answer,  that  the  account  was  too  faulty  and 
too  imperfect  to  be  mended.  Withal  telling  him,  that  seeing  I 
had  in  my  junior  days  taken  some  notes  of  the  government,  which 
I  then  had  with  me  in  England,  I  would  make  him  an  account  of 
my  own  country,  if  I  could  find  time,  while  I  staid  in  London. 
And  this  I  should  the  rather  undertake  in  justice  to  so  fine  a 

l  John  Oldmixon  (1674-1742),  a  miscellaneous  and  notoriously  partisan  writer. 
The  book  referred  to  appeared  in  1708. 


1 6  ROBERT  £  EVE  RLE  Y 

country ;  because  it  has  been  so  misrepresented  to  the  common 
people  of  England,  as  to  make  them  believe  that  the  servants  in 
Virginia  are  made  to  draw  in  cart  and  plow,  as  horses  and  oxen 
do  in  England,  and  that  the  country  turns  all  people  black,  who 
go  to  live  there,  with  other  such  prodigious  phantasms. 

Accordingly  before  I  left  London,  I  gave  him  a  short  history  of 
the  country,  from  the  first  settlement,  with  an  account  of  its  then 
state ;  but  I  would  not  let  him  mingle  it  with  Oldmixon's  other 
account  of  the  plantations,  because  I  took  them  to  be  all  of  a 
piece  with  those  I  had  seen  of  Virginia  and  Carolina,  but  desired 
mine  to  be  printed  by  itself.  And  this  I  take  to  be  the  only 
reason  of  that  gentleman's  so  severely  reflecting  upon  me  in  his 
book,  for  I  never  saw  him  in  my  life  that  I  know  of. 


THE   PASTIMES   OF  COLONIAL  VIRGINIA 
[FROM  THE  SAME,  BOOK  IV,  PART  II.] 

FOR  their  recreation,  the  plantations,  orchards,  and  gardens 
constantly  afford  them  fragrant  and  delightful  walks.  In  their 
woods  and  fields,  they  have  an  unknown  variety  of  vegetables,  and 
other  rarities  of  nature  to  discover  and  observe.  They  have  hunt 
ing,  fishing,  and  fowling,  with  which  they  entertain  themselves  an 
hundred  ways.  There  is  the  most  good-nature  and  hospitality 
practised  in  the  world,  both  toward  friends  and  strangers ;  but 
the  worst  of  it  is,  this  generosity  is  attended  now  and  then  with  a 
little  too  much  intemperance.  The  neighborhood  is  at  much  the 
same  distance  as  in  the  country  in  England ;  but  the  goodness  of 
the  roads  and  the  fairness  of  the  weather  bring  people  often 
together. 

The  Indians,  as  I  have  already  observed,  had  in  their  hunting  a 
way  of  concealing  themselves,  and  coming  up  to  the  deer,  under 
the  blind  of  a  stalking-head,  in  imitation  of  which  many  people 
have  taught  their  horses  to  stalk  it,  that  is,  to  walk  gently  by  the 
huntsman's  side,  to  cover  him  from  the  sight  of  the  deer.  Others 
cut  down  trees  for  the  deer  to  browse  upon,  and  lie  in  wait  behind 


THE  PASTIMES  OF  COLONIAL    VIRGINIA  if 

them.  Others  again  set  stakes  at  a  certain  distance  within  their 
fences,  where  the  deer  had  been  used  to  leap  over  into  a  field  of 
peas,  which  they  love  extremely ;  these  stakes  they  so  place,  as  to 
run  into  the  body  of  the  deer,  when  he  pitches,  by  which  means 
they  impale  him ;  and,  for  a  temptation  to  the  leap,  take  down 
the  top  part  of  the  fence. 

They  hunt  their  hares  (which  are  very  numerous)  a-foot,  with 
mongrels  or  swift  dogs,  which  either  catch  them  quickly,  or  force 
them  to  hole  in  a  hollow  tree,  whither  all  their  hares  generally 
tend,  when  they  are  closely  pursued.  As  soon  as  they  are  thus 
holed,  and  have  crawled  up  into  the  body  of  the  tree,  the  business 
is  to  kindle  a  fire  and  smother  them  with  smoke  till  they  let  go 
their  hold  and  fall  to  the  bottom  stifled ;  from  whence  they  take 
them.  If  they  have  a  mind  to  spare  their  lives,  upon  turning 
them  loose  they  will  be  as  fit  as  ever  to  hunt  at  another  time  :  for 
the  mischief  done  them  by  the  smoke  immediately  wears  off 
again. 

They  have  another  sort  of  hunting,  which  is  very  diverting,  and 
that  they  call  vermin-hunting ;  it  is  performed  a-foot,  with  small 
dogs  in  the  night,  by  the  light  of  the  moon  or  stars.  Thus  in 
summer  time  they  find  abundance  of  raccoons,  opossums,  and 
foxes  in  the  corn-fields,  and  about  their  plantations ;  but  at  other 
times  they  must  go  into  the  woods  for  them.  The  method  is  to 
go  out  with  three  or  four  dogs,  and,  as  soon  as  they  come  to  the 
place,  they  bid  the  dogs  seek  out,  and  all  the  company  follow 
immediately.  Wherever  a  dog  barks,  you  may  depend  upon 
finding  the  game ;  and  this  alarm  draws  both  men  and  dogs  that 
way.  If  this  sport  be  in  the  woods,  the  game  by  that  time  you 
come  near  it  is  perhaps  mounted  to  the  top  of  an  high  tree,  and 
then  they  detach  a  nimble  fellow  up  after  it,  who  must  have  a 
scuffle  with  the  beast,  before  he  can  throw  it  down  to  the  dogs ; 
and  then  the  sport  increases,  to  see  the  vermin  encounter  those 
little  curs.  In  this  sort  of  hunting  they  also  carry  their  great  dogs 
out  with  them,  because  wolves,  bears,  panthers,  wild-cats,  and  all 
other  beasts  of  prey  are  abroad  in  the  night. 

For  wolves  they  make  traps,  and  set  guns  baited  in  the  woods, 
so  that,  when  he  offers  to  seize  the  bait,  he  pulls  the  trigger,  and 


1 8  COLONEL    WILLIAM  BYRD 

the  gun  discharges  upon  him.  What  ^Elian l  and  Pliny 2  write  of 
the  horses  being  benumbed  in  their  legs,  if  they  tread  in  the  track 
of  a  wolf,  does  not  hold  good  here  ;  for  I  myself,  and  many  others, 
have  rid  full  speed  after  wolves  in  the  woods,  and  have  seen  live 
ones  taken  out  of  a  trap,  and  dragged  at  a  horse's  tail ;  and  yet 
those  that  followed  on  horse-back  have  not  perceived  any  of  their 
horses  to  falter  in  their  pace.  .  .  . 

The  inhabitants  are  very  courteous  to  travellers,  who  need  no 
other  recommendation,  but  the  being  human  creatures.  A 
stranger  has  no  more  to  do,  but  to  inquire  upon  the  road  where 
any  gentleman  or  good  housekeeper  lives,  and  there  he  may 
depend  upon  being  received  with  hospitality.  This  good  nature 
is  so  general  among  their  people,  that  the  gentry,  when  they  go 
abroad,  order  their  principal  servant  to  entertain  all  visitors  with 
everything  the  plantation  affords.  And  the  poor  planters,  who 
have  but  one  bed,  will  very  often  sit  up,  or  lie  upon  a  form  or 
couch  all  night,  to  make  room  for  a  weary  traveller  to  repose 
himself  after  his  journey. 

If  there  happen  to  be  a  churl,  that  either  out  of  covetousness, 
or  ill-nature,  won't  comply  with  this  generous  custom,  he  has  a 
mark  of  infamy  set  upon  him,  and  is  abhorred  by  all. 


COLONEL  WILLIAM    BYRD 

[WILLIAM  BYRD,  one  of  the  most  prominent  members  of  the  Virginia  aristoc 
racy,  was  born  in  that  colony  March  28,  1674,  and  died  there  August  26,  1744. 
The  son  of  a  noted  colonial  official  of  the  same  name,  he  was  educated  in 
England,  travelled  in  Europe,  and  later  spent  some  years  in  Great  Britain  as 
agent  of  his  colony.  He  was  a  member  of  the  King's  Council  in  Virginia  for 
more  than  a  generation,  and  finally  its  president.  He  added  to  his  inherited 
wealth,  lived  in  lordly  state,  and  gathered  the  most  valuable  library  in  the  col 
onies.3  He  did  much  to  encourage  immigration  and  was  in  other  ways  a  public- 
spirited  citizen.  "The  Westover  Manuscripts"  first  printed  at  Petersburg, 

1  A  Roman  of  the  third  century  A.D.,  who  wrote,  in  Greek,  on  the  nature  of 
animals. 

2  The  elder  Pliny  (23-79  A.D.)  was  a  naturalist. 

8  It  numbered  nearly  four  thousand  volumes,  the  titles  of  which  may  be  read  in 
an  appendix  to  Bassett's  edition  of  Byrd's  writings. 


NORTH  CAROLINA   HUSBANDRY  19 

Virginia,  in  1841,  contain  an  account  of  his  experiences  as  commissioner  of 
his  colony  in  determining  the  border  line  between  Virginia  and  North  Caro 
lina  in  1728,  also  of  a  journey  undertaken  with  a  friend  to  survey  a  grant 
of  land  on  which  he  expected  to  exploit  iron  mines,  and  of  another  frontier 
journey  to  mines  already  in  operation.  All  these  tracts,  the  titles  of  which 
are  given  in  connection  with  the  citations  made  from  them,  are  remarkable  for 
their  vigorous  style,  their  shrewd  humor,  and  their  valuable  observations  of 
an  economic  nature.  Byrd  was  one  of  the  most  cultivated  Americans  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  he  would  have  been  an  ornament  to  any  society.  He 
was  at  his  best  perhaps  as  a  student  of  economics  and  affairs,  but  he  had  also 
in  him  the  makings  of  a  great  writer.  As  an  easy  and  charming  author,  he  is 
unsurpassed  by  any  other  early  American,  save  Benjamin  Franklin.  Although 
far  from  the  centres  of  culture,  he  was  a  patron  of  art  and  science  and  a  Fel 
low  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Great  Britain.  A  new  edition  of  his  writings, 
superintended  by  Professor  J.  S.  Bassett,  and  provided  with  the  best  account  of 
his  life,  was  published  in  1901,  and  many  of  his  letters  appeared  shortly  after 
in  the  "  Virginia  Magazine  of  History  and  Biography."] 


NORTH   CAROLINA  HUSBANDRY 

[FROM  "THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  DIVIDING  LiNE."1] 

[MARCH]  zoth  [1728].  The  Sabbath  happened  very  oppor 
tunely  to  give  some  ease  to  our  jaded  people,  who  rested  religiously 
from  every  work,  but  that  of  cooking  the  kettle.  We  observed 
very  few  cornfields  in  our  walks,  and  those  very  small,  which 
seemed  the  stranger  to  us,  because  we  could  see  no  other  tokens 
of  husbandry  or  improvement.  But,  upon  further  inquiry,  we  were 
given  to  understand  people  only  made  corn  for  themselves  and 
not  for  their  stocks,  which  know  very  well  how  to  get  their  own 
living.  Both  cattle  and  hogs  ramble  in  the  neighboring  marshes 
and  swamps,  where  they  maintain  themselves  the  whole  winter 
long,  and  are  not  fetched  home  till  the  spring.  Thus  these  indo 
lent  wretches,  during  one  half  of  the  year,  lose  the  advantage  of 
the  milk  of  their  cattle  as  well  as  their  dung,  and  many  of  the  poor 
creatures  perish  in  the  mire,  into  the  bargain,  by  this  ill-manage 
ment.  Some  who  pique  themselves  more  upon  industry  than  their 
neighbors,  will,  now  and  then,  in  compliment  to  their  cattle,  cut 

i  The  text  follows  in  the  main  the  edition  of  1841 ;  the  variations  of  the  new 
edition  are  not  important  to  our  purposes. 


20  COLONEL    WILLIAM  BYRD 

down  a  tree  whose  limbs  are  loaded  with  the  moss  afore-mentioned. 
The  trouble  would  be  too  great  to  climb  the  tree  in  order  to  gather 
this  provender,  but  the  shortest  way  (which  in  this  country  is  al 
ways  counted  the  best)  is  to  fell  it,  just  like  the  lazy  Indians,  who 
do  the  same  by  such  trees  as  bear  fruit,  and  so  make  one  harvest 
for  all. 

RUNNING  THE  BOUNDARY  LINE  THROUGH  THE 
DISMAL   SWAMP 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

[MARCH]  i4th  [1728].  Before  nine  of  the  clock  this  morning, 
the  provisions,  bedding  and  other  necessaries,  were  made  up  into 
packs  for  the  men  to  carry  on  their  shoulders  into  the  Dismal. 
They  were  victualled  for  eight  days  at  full  allowance,  nobody 
doubting  but  that  would  be  abundantly  sufficient  to  carry  them 
through  that  inhospitable  place;  nor  indeed  was  it  possible  for 
the  poor  fellows  to  stagger  under  more.  As  it  was,  their  loads 
t  weighed  from  60  to  70  pounds,  in  just  proportion  to  the  strength 
of  those  who  were  to  bear  them.  It  would  have  been  unconscion 
able  to  have  saddled  them  with  burdens  heavier  than  that,  when 
they  were  to  lug  them  through  a  filthy  bog  which  was  hardly  prac 
ticable  with  no  burdens  at  all.  Besides  this  luggage  at  their  backs, 
they  were  obliged  to  measure  the  distance,  mark  the  trees,  and 
clear  the  way  for  the  surveyors  every  step  they  went.  It  was  really 
a  pleasure  to  see  with  how  much  cheerfulness  they  undertook,  and 
with  how  much  spirit  they  went  through  all  this  drudgery.  .  .  . 
Although  there  was  no  need  of  example  to  inflame  persons  already 
so  cheerful,  yet  to  enter  the  people  with  better  grace,  the  author 
and  two  more  of  the  commissioners  accompanied  them  half 
a  mile  into  the  Dismal.  The  skirts  of  it  were  thinly  planted 
with  dwarf  reeds  and  gall  bushes,  but  when  we  got  into  the  Dismal 
itself,  we  found  the  reeds  grew  there  much  taller  and  closer,  and 
to  mend  the  matter  were  so  interlaced  with  bamboo-briers,  that 
there  was  no  scuffling  through  them  without  the  help  of  pioneers. 
At  the  same  time,  we  found  the  ground  moist  and  trembling  under 
our  feet  like  a  quagmire,  insomuch  that  it  was  an  easy  matter  to 


BOUNDARY  LINE    THROUGH  DISMAL  SWAMP         21 

run  a  ten  foot  pole  up  to  the  head  in  it,  without  exerting  any  un 
common  strength  to  do  it.  Two  of  the  men,  whose  burdens  were 
the  least  cumbersome,  had  orders  to  march  before,  with  their 
tomahawks,  and  clear  the  way,  in  order  to  make  an  opening  for 
the  surveyors.  By  their  assistance  we  made  a  shift  to  push  the 
line  half  a  mile  in  three  hours,  and  then  reached  a  small  piece  of 
firm  land,  about  100  yards  wide,  standing  up  above  the  rest  like 
an  island.  .  .  . 

i  yth.  .  .  .  Since  the  surveyors  had  entered  the  Dismal  they 
had  laid  eyes  on  no  living  creature  ;  neither  bird  nor  beast,  insect 
nor  reptile  came  in  view.  Doubtless  the  eternal  shade  that  broods 
over  this  mighty  bog,  and  hinders  the  sunbeams  from  blessing  the 
ground,  makes  it  an  uncomfortable  habitation  for  anything  that 
has  life.  Not  so  much  as  a  Zealand  frog  could  endure  so  aguish 
a  situation.  It  had  one  beauty,  however,  that  delighted  the  eye, 
though  at  the  expense  of  all  the  other  senses  :  the  moisture  of  the 
soil  preserves  a  continual  verdure,  and  makes  every  plant  an  ever 
green,  but  at  the  same  time  the  foul  damps  ascend  without  ceas 
ing,  corrupt  the  air,  and  render  it  unfit  for  respiration.  Not  even 
a  turkey  buzzard  will  venture  to  fly  over  it,  no  more  than  the  Italian 
vultures  will  over  the  filthy  lake  Avernus1  or  the  birds  in  the  Holy 
Land  over  the  salt  sea  where  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  formerly  stood. 

In  these  sad  circumstances  the  kindest  thing  we  could  do  for 
our  suffering  friends  was  to  give  them  a  place  in  the  Litany.  Our 
chaplain  for  his  part  did  his  office,  and  rubbed  us  up  with  a  sea 
sonable  sermon.  This  was  quite  a  new  thing  to  our  brethren  of 
North  Carolina,  who  live  in  a  climate  where  no  clergyman  can 
breathe,  any  more  than  spiders  in  Ireland.  .  .  . 

1 9th.  ...  We  ordered  several  men  to  patrol  on  the  edge  of 
the  Dismal,  both  towards  the  North  and  towards  the  South,  and  to 
fire  guns  at  proper  distances.  This  they  performed  very  punctually, 
but  could  hear  nothing  in  return,  nor  gain  any  sort  of  intelligence. 
In  the  meantime  whole  flocks  of  women  and  children  flew  hither  to 
stare  at  us,  with  as  much  curiosity  as  if  we  had  lately  landed  from 
Bantam 2  or  Morocco.  Some  borderers,  too,  had  a  great  mind  to 

1  A  lake  of  Campania  near  Baiae,  fabled  to  be  the  entrance  to  hell. 

2  A  seaport  and  district  at  the  west  end  of  Java. 


22  COLONEL    WILLIAM  BYRD 

know  where  the  line  would  come  out,  being  for  the  most  part 
apprehensive  lest  their  lands  should  be  taken  into  Virginia.  In 
that  case  they  must  have  submitted  to  some  sort  of  order  and 
government ;  whereas,  in  North  Carolina,  every  one  does  what 
seems  best  in  his  own  eyes.  There  were  some  good  women  that 
brought  their  children  to  be  baptized,  but  brought  no  capons  along 
with  them  to  make  the  solemnity  cheerful.  In  the  meantime  it 
was  strange  that  none  came  to  be  married  in  such  a  multitude,  if 
it  had  only  been  for  the  novelty  of  having  their  hands  joined  by 
one  in  holy  orders.  Yet  so  it  was,  that  though  our  chaplain 
christened  above  an  hundred,  he  did  not  marry  so  much  as  one 
couple  during  the  whole  expedition.  But  marriage  is  reckoned  a 
lay  contract  in  Carolina,  as  I  said  before,  and  a  country  justice 
can  tie  the  fatal  knot  there,  as  fast  as  an  archbishop. 


PRIMITIVE   DENTISTRY 
[FROM  "A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  LAND  OF  EDEN."] 

[OCT.]  Qth  [1733].  Major  Mayo's  survey  being  no  more  than 
half  done,  we  were  obliged  to  amuse  ourselves  another  day  in  this 
place.  And  that  the  time  might  not  be  quite  lost,  we  put  our 
garments  and  baggage  into  good  repair.  I  for  my  part  never 
spent  a  day  so  well  during  the  whole  voyage.  I  had  an  imper 
tinent  tooth  in  my  upper  jaw,  that  had  been  loose  for  some  time, 
and  made  me  chew  with  great  caution.  Particularly  I  could  not 
grind  a  biscuit  but  with  much  deliberation  and  presence  of  mind. 
Tooth-drawers  we  had  none  amongst  us,  nor  any  of  the  instru 
ments  they  make  use  of.  However,  invention  supplied  this  want 
very  happily,  and  I  contrived  to  get  rid  of  this  troublesome  com 
panion  by  cutting  a  caper.  I  caused  a  twine  to  be  fastened  round 
the  root  of  my  tooth,  about  a  fathom  in  length,  and  then  tied  the 
other  end  to  the  snag  of  a  log  that  lay  upon  the  ground,  in  such 
a  manner  that  I  could  just  stand  upright.  Having  adjusted  my 
string  in  this  manner,  I  bent  my  knees  enough  to  enable  me  to 
spring  vigorously  off  the  ground,  a?  perpendicularly  as  I  could. 
The  force  of  the  leap  drew  out  the  tooth  with  so  much  ease  that 


THE  SPOTSWOOD  HOME  2$ 

I  felt  nothing  of  it,  nor  should  have  believed  it  was  come  away, 
unless  I  had  seen  it  dangling  at  the  end  of  the  string.  An  under 
tooth  may  be  fetched  out  by  standing  off  the  ground  and  fastening 
your  string  at  due  distance  above  you.  And  having  so  fixed  your 
gear,  jump  off  your  standing,  and  the  weight  of  your  body,  added 
to  the  force  of  the  spring,  will  prize  out  your  tooth  with  less  pain 
than  any  operator  upon  earth  could  draw  it. 

This  new  way  of  tooth-drawing,  being  so  silently  and  deliber 
ately  performed,  both  surprised  and  delighted  all  that  were  present, 
who  could  not  guess  what  I  was  going  about.  I  immediately  found 
the  benefit  of  getting  rid  of  this  troublesome  companion,  by  eating 
my  supper  with  more  comfort  than  I  had  done  during  the  whole 
expedition. 

THE   SPOTSWOOD   HOME 
[FROM  "A  PROGRESS  TO  THE  MINES  IN  THE  YEAR  1732."] 

[SEPT.]  2;th  [1732].  ...  I  rode  eight  miles  together  over  a 
stony  road  and  had  on  either  side  continual  poisoned  fields,  with 
nothing  but  saplings  growing  on  them.  Then  I  came  into  the 
main  county  road  that  leads  from  Fredericksburg  to  Germanna, 
which  last  place  I  reached  in  ten  miles  more.  This  famous  town 
consists  of  Colonel  Spotswood's 1  enchanted  castle  on  one  side  of 
the  street,  and  a  baker's  dozen  of  ruinous  tenements  on  the  other, 
where  so  many  German  families  had  dwelt  some  years  ago ;  but 
are  now  removed  ten  miles  higher,  in  the  Fork  of  Rappahannock, 
to  land  of  their  own.  There  had  also  been  a  chapel  about  a  bow 
shot  from  the  colonel's  house,  at  the  end  of  an  avenue  of  cherry 
trees,  but  some  pious  people  had  lately  burnt  it  down,  with  intent 
to  get  another  built  nearer  to  their  own  homes.  Here  I  arrived 
about  three  o'clock,  and  found  only  Mrs.  Spotswood  at  home,  who 
received  her  old  acquaintance  with  many  a  gracious  smile.  I 
was  carried  into  a  room  elegantly  set  off  with  pier  glasses,  the 

l  Alexander  Spotswood  (1676-1740),  a  veteran  of  Blenheim,  who  from  1710  to 
1722  was  an  energetic  if  often  unpopular  governor  of  Virginia.  In  1716  he  or 
ganized  the  expedition  which  crossed  the  Blue  Ridge  into  the  Valley  of  Virginia  and 
gave  rise  to  the  so-called  order  of  the  "  Knights  of  the  Golden  Horseshoe." 


24  HENRY  LAURENS 

largest  of  which  came  soon  after  to  an  odd  misfortune.  Amongst 
other  favorite  animals  that  cheered  this  lady's  solitude,  a  brace  of 
tame  deer  ran  familiarly  about  the  house,  and  one  of  them  came 
to  stare  at  me  as  a  stranger.  But  unluckily  spying  his  own  figure 
in  the  glass,  he  made  a  spring  over  the  tea-table  that  stood  under 
it,  and  shattered  the  glass  to  pieces,  and  falling  back  upon  the 
tea-table  made  a  terrible  fracas  among  the  china.  This  exploit 
was  so  sudden,  and  accompanied  with  such  a  noise,  that  it  surprised 
me,  and  perfectly  frightened  Mrs.  Spotswood.  But  'twas  worth 
all  the  damage  to  show  the  moderation  and  good  humor  with 
which  she  bore  this  disaster.  In  the  evening  the  noble  colonel 
caipe  home  from  his  mines,  who  saluted  me  very  civilly,  and  Mrs. 
Spotswood's  sister,  Miss  Theky,  who  had  been  to  meet  him  en 
cavalier*  was  so  kind  too  as  to  bid  me  welcome.  We  talked  over 
a  legend  of  old  stories,  supped  about  9,  and  then  prattled  with  the 
ladies,  till  it  was  time  for  a  traveller  to  retire.  In  the  mean  time 
I  observed  my  old  friend  to  be  very  uxorious,  and  exceedingly  fond 
of  his  children.  This  was  so  opposite  to  the  maxims  he  used  to 
preach  up  before  he  was  married,  that  I  could  not  forbear  rubbing 
up  the  memory  of  them.  But  he  gave  a  very  good-natured  turn  to 
his  change  of  sentiments,  by  alleging  that  whoever  brings  a  poor 
gentlewoman  into  so  solitary  a  place,  from  all  her  friends  and 
acquaintance,  would  be  ungrateful  not  to  use  her  and  all  that 
belongs  to  her  with  all  possible  tenderness. 


HENRY   LAURENS 

[HENRY  LAURENS,  a  patriotic  South  Carolinian  of  Huguenot  stock,  was  born 
in  Charleston  in  1724,  and  died  there  December  8,  1792.  His  training  in  busi 
ness  was  partly  obtained  in  London,  but  this  did  not  make  him  any  less  stead 
fast  in  opposing  British  aggressions  later  in  life  when  he  had  made  a  fortune 
as  a  Charleston  merchant.  In  1771  he  retired  and  travelled  in  England  and 
Europe.  Returning  in  1774,  he  was  given  offices  in  his  native  state,  and  was 
sent  to  the  Continental  Congress,  of  which  he  became  president,  in  succession 
to  John  Hancock.  He  was  made  minister  to  Holland  in  1779,  but  on  his 
voyage  over  was  captured  by  the  British.  He  threw  his  papers  overboard,  but 

1  I.e.  had  ridden  on  horseback  to  meet  him. 


A-  BOLD    TOAST  2$ 

they  were  recovered  and  used  as  evidence  against  him.  He  was  imprisoned  in 
the  Tower  as  a  suspected  traitor  and  was  kept  there  for  over  a  year,  to  the 
detriment  of  his  health.  He  refused  to  try  to  impede  the  negotiations  of  his 
son  John,  who  was  seeking  to  raise  a  loan  for  America  in  Paris,  and  in  other 
ways  he  proved  to  the  British  ministers  that  he  was  incorruptible  and  worthy 
of  the  consideration  shown  him  by  Edmund  Burke.  Finally  he  was  exchanged 
for  Lord  Cornwallis,  was  one  of  the  commissioners  who  negotiated  the  prelimi 
naries  of  peace  with  Great  Britain,  and  returned  to  his  Carolina  plantation. 
After  his  death  his  body  was  cremated,  according  to  a  request  in  his  will — 
apparently  the  first  instance  of  the  practice  in  America.  Some  of  his  writings 
have  been  published  by  the  South  Carolina  Historical  Society,  and  he  deserves 
to  rank  with  John  Rutledge  and  William  Henry  Dray  ton  as  a  patriot  who  sheds 
lustre  upon  his  native  state.  A  page  or  two  from  Laurens  must  suffice  for  our 
purposes,  but  it  would  be  pleasant  and  profitable  to  quote  more  extensively 
from  him,  as  well  as  to  give  extracts  from  the  political  and  historical  writings 
of  Drayton.  It  may  be  mentioned  that  Laurens's  daughter,  Martha,  was  the 
second  wife  of  the  learned  physician  and  historian  of  South  Carolina  and  the 
Revolution,  Dr.  David  Ramsay  (^.z>.)»  who  became  her  biographer.] 


A  BOLD  TOAST 

[FROM  "A  NARRATIVE  OF  THE  CAPTURE  OF  HENRY  LAURENS,  OF  HIS  CON 
FINEMENT  IN  THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON,  ETC.,  1780,  1781,  1782."  COL 
LECTIONS  OF  THE  SOUTH  CAROLINA  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY,  VOL.  I,  1857.] 

THE  i4th  or  i5th  September,  [1780]  the  Vestal  and  Fairy, 
which  had  joined  her,  entered  the  Basin  of  St.  Johns,  Newfound 
land.  Soon  after  we  had  anchored,  Admiral  Edwards  sent  his 
compliments,  desiring  I  would  dine  with  him  that  and  every  day 
while  I  should  remain  in  the  land. 

The  Admiral  received  me  politely  at  dinner  ;  seated  me  at  his 
right  hand  ;  after  dinner  he  toasted  the  king  ;  I  joined.  Immedi 
ately  after  he  asked  a  toast  from  me.  I  gave  "  General  Washing 
ton,"  which  was  repeated  by  the  whole  company,  and  created  a 
little  mirth  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table.  The  Admiral,  in  course 
of  conversation,  observed  I  had  been  pretty  active  among  my 
countrymen.  I  replied  that  I  had  once  been  a  good  British  sub 
ject,  but  after  Great  Britain  had  refused  to  hear  our  petitions,  and 
had  thrown  us  out  of  her  protection,  I  had  endeavored  to  do  my 
duty. 


26  HENRY  LAUREN S 

AN  INCORRUPTIBLE  PATRIO 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  yth  March,  [1781]  Mr.  Oswald l  visited,  and  was  left  alone 
with  me.  It  immediately  occurred  he  had  some  extraordinary  sub 
ject  from  White  Hall2  for  conversation,  and  so  it  appeared. 

Mr.  Oswald  began  by  saying,  "  I  converse  with  you  this  morning 
not  particularly  as  your  friend,  but  as  a  friend  to  Great  Britain." 
I  thanked  him  for  his  candor;  he  proceeded  :  "  I  have  certain 
propositions  to  make  for  obtaining  your  liberty,  which  I  advise 
you  should  take  time  to  consider.  I  showed  the  note  you  lately 
sent  me  to  Lord  Germain,3  who  was  at  first  very  angry.  He  ex 
claimed,  '  Rascals  !  rascals  !  —  we  want  no  rascals  !  Honey  ! 
honey  !  !  vinegar  !  They  have  had  too  much  honey,  and  too 
little  vinegar  !  They  shall  have  less  honey  and  more  vinegar  for 
the  future  ! ' "  I  said  to  Mr.  Oswald,  I  should  be  glad  to  taste  a 
little  of  his  lordship's  vinegar  ;  his  lordship's  honey  had  been  very 
unpleasant  ;  but  Mr.  Oswald  said,  "  That  note  was  written  without 
a  moment's  deliberation,  intended  only  for  myself,4  and  not  for  the 
eye  of  a  minister."  Mr.  Oswald  smiled,  and  said,  "  It  has  done 
you  no  harm."  I  then  replied,  "  I  am  as  ready  to  give  an  answer 
to  any  proposition  which  you  have  to  make  to  me  at  this  moment 
as  I  shall  be  in  any  given  time.  An  honest  man  requires  no  time 
to  give  an  answer  where  his  honor  is  concerned.  If  the  Secreta- 

1  Richard  Oswald  (1705-1781),  a  diplomatist  who  represented  Great  Britain  in 
the  negotiations  for  peace.     He  furnished  ^£50,000  bail  for  Laurens. 

2  Formerly  the  favorite  palace  of  the  English  kings,  Whitehall  was  burned  dur 
ing  the  reign  of  William  III  (see  Macaulay's  "  History  of  England,"  Vol.  V,  Chap, 
xxiii),  and  was  afterwards  used  for  official  purposes.     Laurens  meant  to  say  that 
Oswald  had  come  to  him  straight  from  the  ministers. 

8  Lord  George  Germain,  Viscount  Sackville  (1716-1785),  cashiered  for  coward 
ice  at  the  battle  of  Minden,  but  made  Colonial  Secretary  by  George  III,  and  thus 
charged  with  the  conduct  of  the  war  against  the  colonies.  See  Trevelyan's  "  The 
American  Revolution,"  Part  II,  Vol.  I,  p.  28. 

4  The  text  has  "  yourself,"  which  seems  plainly  wrong.  Many  corrections  of 
punctuation  have  been  needed,  but  the  original  quotation  marks  have  been  left  in 
places  where  we  should  not  now  use  them. 


AN  INCORRUPTIBLE  PATRIOT  2/ 

ries  of  State  will  enlarge  me  upon  parole,  as  it  seems  they  can 
enlarge  me  if  they  please,  I  will  strictly  conform  to  my  engage 
ment  to  do  nothing,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  the  hurt  of  this  king 
dom.  I  will  return  to  America,  or  remain  in  any  part  of  England 
which  may  be  assigned,  and  render  myself,  when  demanded." 

Mr.  Oswald  answered,  "  No,  you  must  stay  in  London,  among 
your  friends.  The  ministers  will  often  have  occasion  to  send  for, 
and  consult  you  ;  but  observe,  I  say  all  this  as  from  myself,  not 
by  particular  direction  or  authority  ;  but  I  know  it  will  be  so. 
You  can  write  two  or  three  lines  to  the  ministers,  and  barely  say, 
you  are  sorry  for  what  is  past.  A  pardon  will  be  granted.  Every 
man  has  been  wrong,  at  some  time  or  other  of  his  life,  and  should 
not  be  ashamed  to  acknowledge  it."  I  now  understood  Mr. 
Oswald,  and  could  easily  perceive  my  worthy  friend  was  more 
than  half  ashamed  of  his  mission.  Without  hesitation,  I  replied, 
"  Sir,  I  will  never  subscribe  to  my  own  infamy,  and  to  the  dis 
honor  of  my  children."  Mr.  Oswald  then  talked  of  long  and 
painful  confinement,  which  I  should  suffer,  and  repeated  "  possi 
ble  consequences."  "Permit  me  to  repeat,  Sir,"  said  I,  "I  am 
afraid  of  no  consequences  but  such  as  would  flow  from  dishonor 
able  acts."  Mr.  Oswald  desired,  "  I  would  take  time,  weigh  the 
matter  properly  in  my  mind,  and  let  him  hear  from  me."  I  con 
cluded  by  assuring  him,  "  he  never  would  hear  from  me  in  terms 
of  compliance ;  if  I  could  be  so  base,  I  was  sure  I  should  incur 
his  contempt."  Mr.  Oswald  took  leave  with  such  expressions  of 
regard  and  such  a  squeeze  of  the  hand,  as  induced  me  to  believe 
he  was  not  displeased  with  my  determination. 

In  the  course  of  this  conversation,  I  asked,  "Why  ministers 
were  so  desirous  of  having  me  about  their  persons."  Mr.  Oswald 
said,  "They  thought  I  had  great  influence  in  America."  I  an 
swered,  "  I  once  had  some  influence  in  my  own  country  ;  but  it 
would  be  in  me  the  highest  degree  of  arrogance  to  pretend  to 
have  a  general  influence  in  America.  I  know  but  one  man,  of 
whom  this  can  be  said  ;  I  mean  General  Washington.  I  will  sup 
pose,  for  a  moment,  the  General  should  come  over  to  your  min 
isters.  What  would  be  the  effect  ?  He  would  instantly  lose  all 
his  influence,  and  be  called  a  rascal." 


28  GEORGE    WASHINGTON 

NO   RUNNING  AWAY 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

SEPTEMBER  23d.  [1781]  — For  some  time  past  I  have  been  fre 
quently  and  strongly  tempted  to  make  my  escape  from  the  Tower, 
assured,  "It  was  the  advice  and  desire  of  all  my  friends,  the 
thing  might  be  easily  effected,  the  face  of  American  affairs  was 
extremely  gloomy.  That  I  might  have  18  hours  start  before  I 
was  missed ;  time  enough  to  reach  Margate  and  Ostend ;  that  it 
was  believed  there  would  be  no  pursuit,"  etc.,  etc.  I  had  always 
said  :  "  I  hate  the  name  of  a  runaway."  At  length  I  put  a  stop  to 
farther  applications  by  saying,  "I  will  not  attempt  an  escape. 
The  gates  were  opened  for  me  to  enter ;  they  shall  be  opened  for 
me  to  go  out  of  the  Tower.  God  Almighty  sent  me  here  for  some 
purpose.  I  am  determined  to  see  the  end  of  it."  Where  the 
project  of  an  escape  originated  is  uncertain;  but  I  am  fully  con 
vinced  it  was  not  the  scheme  of  the  person  who  spoke  to  me  upon 
the  subject.  The  ruin  of  that  person  and  family  would  have  been 
the  consequence  of  my  escape,  unless  there  had  been  some 
previous  assurance  of  indemnification. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON 

[EVEN  the  barest  outlines  of  a  life  so  familiar  to  all  as  that  of  Washington 
seem  superfluous.  For  the  sake  of  uniformity,  however,  the  student  may  be 
reminded  that  the  Father  of  his  Country  was  born,  of  good  old  English  stock, 
in  Westmoreland  County,  Virginia,  on  February  22,  1732,  and  died  at  Mount 
Vernon,  December  14,  1799.  He  was  brought  up  chiefly  by  his  mother,  re 
ceived  a  very  limited  education,  and  was  early  thrown  upon  his  own  resources 
as  a  surveyor.  His  profession  brought  him  into  contact  with  frontier  life,  and 
in  consequence  he  was '  led  finally  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  campaigns 
against  the  French  and  Indians  for  the  possession  of  the  Ohio  region.  After 
his  marriage  with  Mrs.  Custis  in  1759,  he  settled  at  Mount  Vernon  as  a  planter. 
He  sympathized  from  the  first  with  the  colonies  in  their  contentions  with  the 
mother  country,  was  made  a  member  of  the  first  Continental  Congress,  and 
in  1775  became  commander-in-chief  of  the  American  forces.  It  is  now  gen- 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON  29 

erally  acknowledged  that  his  prudence,  determination,  and  military  skill  were 
the  greatest  single  factor  in  bringing  the  Revolution  to  a  successful  issue. 
After  the  close  of  the  war  he  retired  to  Mount  Vernon,  where  he  took  an  active 
interest  in  the  efforts  made  to  strengthen  the  union  of  states.  He  presided 
over  the  Convention  of  1787,  and  was  subsequently  elected  first  President 
under  the  new  Constitution.  He  served  with  great  wisdom  for  two  terms 
(1789-1797),  declining  reelection  in  his  famous  "Farewell  Address."  After 
his  retirement  he  was  appointed  lieutenant-general  of  the  American  forces, 
in  view  of  the  war  that  seemed  impending  with  France.  He  lived  only  a  year 
longer,  dying  of  laryngitis  and  bad  medical  attention. 

Washington  was  diffident  of  his  own  powers  as  a  writer,  and  very  few  of 
his  admirers  have  ventured  to  claim  for  him  the  honors  of  authorship.  His 
"  Farewell  Address  "  was  due  in  considerable  part  to  Hamilton,  so  far  as  con 
cerns  the  expansion  and  phrasing  of  its  topics,  and  at  least  one  editor  of  his 
letters  felt  obliged  to  correct  his  orthography  and  to  elevate  his  diction.  His 
style,  when  at  its  best,  possesses  little  grace  or  variety;  and  his  voluminous  writ 
ings  are  read  by  few  who  are  not  historical  students.  But  he  is  amply  worthy 
of  being  included  in  every  volume  devoted  either  to  Southern  or  to  American 
writers,  because  his  character  was  so  great  and  noble  that  much  that  he  wrote 
became  great  and  noble  also.  No  defects  of  early  training,  no  lack  of  the 
elements  of  style,  no  shrinking  from  authorship,  could  prevent  such  a  man 
from  producing,  whenever  he  wrote  down  what  was  uppermost  in  his  mind 
and  heart,  literature  marked  by  the  most  important  of  all  qualities,  —  "high 
seriousness."  It  is  impossible  to  read  his  more  important  letters,  or  his  proc 
lamations  to  his  soldiers,  or  such  documents  as  his  address  to  the  governors 
of  all  the  states  on  the  occasion  of  his  laying  down  his  command,  or  the  rough 
draft  of  his  "  Farewell  Address,"  without  feeling  emotions  of  the  most  elevated 
kind.  It  is  true  that  these  emotions  are  moral  and  intellectual  rather  than 
aesthetic  in  character,  yet  at  times  they  are  aesthetic  too,  for  the  sonorous  and 
stately  dignity  of  some  of  his  pages  gives  a  pleasure  that  is  not  unconnected 
with  pure  charm.  Criticism  of  so  great  a  man,  certainly  the  technical  criticism 
of  the  student  of  rhetoric,  is  almost  an  impertinence;  yet  it  would  be  equally  an 
impertinence  for  the  student  of  history  to  claim  Washington  for  his  own  be 
hoof,  since  he  not  merely  did  noble  deeds,  but  uttered  and  recorded  noble 
words,  which  will  stir  mankind  as  long  as  sublime  characters  inspire  reverent 
admiration. 

There  are  two  editions  of  the  writings  of  Washington,  one  by  Jared  Sparks 
in  twelve. volumes  (1834-1837),  and  one  by  Worthington  C.  Ford  in  fourteen 
(1889-1893).  The  text  of  the  latter  is  the  more  accurate  and  is  here  followed 
by  permission  of  the  publishers,  Messrs.  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons.  There  are,  of 
course,  numerous  biographies  of  Washington,  of  which  those  by  Chief  Justice 
Marshall,  Washington  Irving,  and  Senator  Henry  Cabot  Lodge  in  the  "  Ameri 
can  Statesmen  "  series  may  be  mentioned.] 


30  GEORGE    WASHINGTON 


TO   THE   GOVERNORS   OF   ALL   THE   STATES 

[FROM  WASHINGTON'S  "  CIRCULAR  LETTER  ADDRESSED  TO  THE  GOVERNORS 
OF  ALL  THE  STATES  ON  DISBANDING  THE  ARMY."] 

HEAD-QUARTERS,  NEWBURG, 
8  June,  1783. 

SIR  :  —  The  great  object,  for  which  I  had  the  honor  to  hold  an 
appointment  in  the  service  of  my  country,  being  accomplished,  I 
am  now  preparing  to  resign  it  into  the  hands  of  Congress,  and  to 
return  to  that  domestic  retirement,  which,  it  is  well  known,  I  left 
with  the  greatest  reluctance ;  a  retirement  for  which  I  have  never 
ceased  to  sigh,  through  a  long  and  painful  absence,  and  in  which 
(remote  from  the  noise  and  trouble  of  the  world)  I  meditate  to 
pass  the  remainder  of  life,  in  a  state  of  undisturbed  repose.  But 
before  I  carry  this  resolution  into  effect,  I  think  it  a  duty  incumbent 
on  me  to  make  this  my  last  official  communication ;  to  congratu 
late  you  on  the  glorious  events  which  Heaven  has  been  pleased  to 
produce  in  our  favor ;  to  offer  my  sentiments  respecting  some  im 
portant  subjects,  which  appear  to  me  to  be  intimately  connected 
with  the  tranquillity  of  the  United  States ;  to  take  my  leave  of 
your  Excellency  as  a  public  character ;  and  to  give  my  final  bless 
ing  to  that  country,  in  whose  service  I  have  spent  the  prime  of  my 
life,  for  whose  sake  I  have  consumed  so  many  anxious  days  and 
watchful  nights,  and  whose  happiness,  being  extremely  dear  to  me, 
will  always  constitute  no  inconsiderable  part  of  my  own. 

Impressed  with  the  liveliest  sensibility  on  this  pleasing  occasion, 
I  will  claim  the  indulgence  of  dilating  the  more  copiously  on  the 
subjects  of  our  mutual  felicitations.  When  we  consider  the  mag 
nitude  of  the  prize  we  contended  for,  the.  doubtful  nature  of  the 
contest,  and  the  favorable  manner  in  which  it  has  terminated,  we 
shall  find  the  greatest  possible  reason  for  gratitude  and  rejoicing. 
This  is  a  theme  that  will  afford  infinite  delight  to  every  benevolent 
and  liberal  mind,  whether  the  event  in  contemplation  be  considered 
as  the  source  of  present  enjoyment,  or  the  parent  of  future  happi 
ness  ;  and  we  shall  have  equal  occasion  to  felicitate  ourselves  on 


TO  THE  GOVERNORS  OF  ALL  THE  STATES    31 

the  lot  which  Providence  has  assigned  us,  whether  we  view  it  in  a 
natural,  a  political,  or  a  moral  point  of  light. 

The  citizens  of  America,  placed  in  the  most  enviable  condition, 
as  the  sole  lords  and  proprietors  of  a  vast  tract  of  continent,  com 
prehending  all  the  various  soils  and  climates  of  the  world,  and 
abounding  with  all  the  necessaries  and  conveniences  of  life,  are  now, 
by  the  late  satisfactory  pacification,  acknowledged  to  be  possessed 
of  absolute  freedom  and  independency.  They  are,  from  this 
period,  to  be  considered  as  the  actors  on  a  most  conspicuous 
theatre,  which  seems  to  be  peculiarly  designated  by  Providence 
for  the  display  of  human  greatness  and  felicity.  Here  they  are  not 
only  surrounded  with  every  thing,  which  can  contribute  to  the 
completion  of  private  and  domestic  enjoyment ;  but  Heaven  has 
crowned  all  its  other  blessings,  by  giving  a  fairer  opportunity  for 
political  happiness,  than  any  other  nation  has  ever  been  favored 
with.  Nothing  can  illustrate  these  observations  more  forcibly,  than 
a  recollection  of  the  happy  conjuncture  of  times  and  circumstances, 
under  which  our  republic  assumed  its  rank  among  the  nations. 
The  foundation  of  our  empire  was  not  laid  in  the  gloomy  age  of 
ignorance  and  superstition ;  but  at  an  epoch  when  the  rights  of 
mankind  were  better  understood  and  more  clearly  defined,  than 
at  any  former  period.  The  researches  of  the  human  mind  after 
social  happiness  have  been  carried  to  a  great  extent ;  the  treasures 
of  knowledge,  acquired  by  the  labors  of  philosophers,  sages,  and 
legislators,  through  a  long  succession  of  years,  are  laid  open  for  our 
use,  and  their  collected  wisdom  may  be  happily  applied  in  the 
establishment  of  our  forms  of  government.  The  free  cultivation 
of  letters,  the  unbounded  extension  of  commerce,  the  progressive 
refinement  of  manners,  the  growing  liberality  of  sentiment,  and, 
above  all,  the  pure  and  benign  light  of  Revelation,  have  had  a 
meliorating  influence  on  mankind  and  increased  the  blessings  of 
society.  At  this  auspicious  period,  the  United  States  came  into 
existence  as  a  nation ;  and,  if  their  citizens  should  not  be  com 
pletely  free  and  happy,  the  fault  will  be  entirely  their  own. 

Such  is  our  situation,  and  such  are  our  prospects  ;  but  notwith 
standing  the  cup  of  blessing  is  thus  reached  out  to  us ;  notwith 
standing  happiness  is  ours,  if  we  have  a  disposition  to  seize  the 


32  GEORGE    WASHINGTON 

occasion  and  make  it  our  own ;  yet  it  appears  to  me  there  is  an 
option  still  left  to  the  United  States  of  America,  that  it  is  in  their 
choice,  and  depends  upon  their  conduct,  whether  they  will  be 
respectable  and  prosperous,  or  contemptible  and  miserable,  as  a 
nation.  This  is  the  time  of  their  political  probation ;  this  is  the 
moment  when  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  are  turned  upon  them ; 
this  is  the  moment  to  establish  or  ruin  their  national  character  for 
ever;  this  is  the  favorable  moment  to  give  such  a  tone  to  our 
federal  government,  as  will  enable  it  to  answer  the  ends  of  its  in 
stitution,  or  this  may  be  the  ill-fated  moment  for  relaxing  the 
powers  of  the  Union,  annihilating  the  cement  of  the  confederation, 
and  exposing  us  to  become  the  sport  of  European  politics,  which 
may  play  one  State  against  another,  to  prevent  their  growing  im 
portance,  and  to  serve  their  own  interested  purposes.  For,  accord 
ing  to  the  system  of  policy  the  States  shall  adopt  at  this  moment, 
they  will  stand  or  fall ;  and  by  their  confirmation  or  lapse  it  is  yet 
to  be  decided,  whether  the  revolution  must  ultimately  be  considered 
as  a  blessing  or  a  curse ;  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  not  to  the  present 
age  alone,  for  with  our  fate  will  the  destiny  of  unborn  millions  be 
involved. 

With  this  conviction  of  the  importance  of  the  present  crisis, 
silence  in  me  would  be  a  crime.  I  will  therefore  speak  to  your 
Excellency  the  language  of  freedom  and  of  sincerity  without  dis 
guise.  I  am  aware,  however,  that  those  who  differ  from  me  in 
political  sentiment,  may  perhaps  remark,  I  am  stepping  out  of  the 
proper  line  of  my  duty,  and  may  possibly  ascribe  to  arrogance  or 
ostentation,  what  I  know  is  alone  the  result  of  the  purest  intention. 
But  the  rectitude  of  my  own  heart,  which  disdains  such  unworthy 
motives  ;  the  part  I  have  hitherto  acted  in  life  ;  the  determination 
I  have  formed,  of  not  taking  any  share  in  public  business  here 
after  ;  the  ardent  desire  I  feel,  and  shall  continue  to  manifest,  of 
quietly  enjoying,  in  private  life,  after  all  the  toils  of  war,  the 
benefits  of  a  wise  and  liberal  government,  will,  I  flatter  myself, 
sooner  or  later  convince  my  countrymen,  that  I  could  have  no 
sinister  views  in  delivering,  with  so  little  reserve,  the  opinions 
contained  in  this  address. 

There  are  four  things,  which,  I  humbly  conceive,  are  essential 


THE   SPIRIT  OF  PARTY  33 

to  the  well-being,  I  may  even  venture  to  say,  to  the  existence  of 
the  United  States,  as  an  independent  power. 

First.  An  indissoluble  union  of  the  States  under  one  federal 
head. 

Secondly.   A  sacred  regard  to  public  justice. 

Thirdly.   The  adoption  of  a  proper  peace  establishment ;  and, 

Fourthly.  The  prevalence  of  that  pacific  and  friendly  disposi 
tion  among  the  people  of  the  United  States,  which  will  induce 
them  to  forget  their  local  prejudices  and  policies ;  to  make  those 
mutual  concessions,  which  are  requisite  to  the  general  prosperity ; 
and,  in  some  instances,  to  sacrifice  their  individual  advantages  to 
the  interest  of  the  community. 

These  are  the  pillars  on  which  the  glorious  fabric  of  our  inde 
pendency  and  national  character  must  be  supported.  Liberty  is 
the  basis ;  and  whoever  would  dare  to  sap  the  foundation,  or  over 
turn  the  structure,  under  whatever  specious  pretext  he  may  attempt 
it,  will  merit  the  bitterest  execration,  and  the  severest  punishment, 
which  can  be  inflicted  by  his  injured  country.  .  .  .* 


THE   SPIRIT  OF  PARTY 

[FROM  THE  "  FAREWELL  ADDRESS."] 

I  HAVE  already  intimated  to  you  the  danger  of  parties  in  the 
state,  with  particular  reference  to  the  founding  of  them  on  geo 
graphical  discriminations.  Let  me  now  take  a  more  comprehen 
sive  view,  and  warn  you  in  the  most  solemn  manner  against  the 
baneful  effects  of  the  spirit  of  party,  generally. 

This  spirit,  unfortunately,  is  inseparable  from  our  nature,  having 
its  root  in  the  strongest  passions  of  the  human  mind.  It  exists 
under  different  shapes  in  all  governments,  more  or  less  stifled,  con 
trolled,  or  repressed ;  but,  in  those  of  the  popular  form,  it  is  seen 
in  its  greatest  rankness,  and  is  truly  their  worst  enemy. 

1  The  student  may  be  reminded  that  even  this  noble  document  did  not  escape 
harsh  criticism  in  its  day.  One  of  Washington's  fellow- Virginians,  a  man  of  great 
eminence,  referring  to  it,  wrote  scornfully  about  "  the  unsolicited  obtrusion  of  his 
advice." 

D 


34  GEORGE    WASHINGTON 

The  alternate  domination  of  one  faction  over  another,  sharpened 
by  the  spirit  of  revenge,  natural  to  party  dissension,  which  in  dif 
ferent  ages  and  countries  has  perpetrated  the  most  horrid  enormi 
ties,  is  itself  a  frightful  despotism.  But  this  leads  at  length  to  a 
more  formal  and  permanent  despotism.  The  disorders  and  miseries, 
which  result,  gradually  incline  the  minds  of  men  to  seek  security 
and  repose  in  the  absolute  power  of  an  individual ;  and  sooner  or 
later  the  chief  of  some  prevailing  faction,  more  able  or  more  for 
tunate  than  his  competitors,  turns  this  disposition  to  the  purposes 
of  his  own  elevation,  on  the  ruins  of  Public  Liberty. 

Without  looking  forward  to  an  extremity  of  this  kind,  (which 
nevertheless  ought  not  to  be  entirely  out  of  sight,)  the  common 
and  continual  mischiefs  of  the  spirit  of  party  are  sufficient  to  make 
it  the  interest  and  duty  of  a  wise  people  to  discourage  and  restrain 
it. 

It  serves  always  to  distract  the  Public  Councils,  and  enfeeble 
the  Public  Administration.  It  agitates  the  Community  with  ill- 
founded  jealousies  and  false  alarms  ;  kindles  the  animosity  of  one 
part  against  another,  foments  occasionally  riot  and  insurrection. 
It  opens  the  door  to  foreign  influence  and  corruption,  which  find 
a  facilitated  access  to  the  government  itself  through  the  channels 
of  party  passions.  Thus  the  policy  and  the  will  of  one  country 
are  subjected  to  the  policy  and  will  of  another. 

There  is  an  opinion,  that  parties  in  free  countries  are  useful 
checks  upon  the  administration  of  the  Government,  and  serve  to 
keep  alive  the  spirit  of  Liberty.  This  within  certain  limits  is  prob 
ably  true ;  and  in  Governments  of  a  Monarchical  cast,  Patriotism 
may  look  with  indulgence,  if  not  with  favor,  upon  the  spirit  of 
party.  But  in  those  of  the  popular  character,  in  Governments 
purely  elective,  it  is  a  spirit  not  to  be  encouraged.  From  their 
natural  tendency,  it  is  certain  there  will  always  be  enough  of  that 
spirit  for  every  salutary  purpose.  And,  there  being  constant  dan 
ger  of  excess,  the  effort  ought  to  be,  by  force  of  public  opinion,  to 
mitigate  and  assuage  it.  A  fire  not  to  be  quenched,  it  demands  a 
uniform  vigilance  to  prevent  its  bursting  into  a  flame,  lest,  instead 
of  warming,  it  should  consume. 


AMERICA'S   TRUE  FOREIGN  POLICY  35 

AMERICA'S   TRUE   FOREIGN   POLICY 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

IT  is  our  true  policy  to  steer  clear  of  permanent  alliances  with 
any  portion  of  the  foreign  world ;  so  far,  I*  mean,  as  we  are  now 
at  liberty  to  do  it ;  for  let  me  not  be  understood  as  capable  of 
patronizing  infidelity  to  existing  engagements.  I  hold  the  maxim 
no  less  applicable  to  public  than  to  private  affairs,  that  honesty  is 
always  the  best  policy.  I  repeat  it,  therefore,  let  those  engage 
ments  be  observed  in  their  genuine  sense.  But,  in  my  opinion,  it 
is  unnecessary  and  would  be  unwise  to  extend  them. 

Taking  care  always  to  keep  ourselves,  by  suitable  establishments, 
on  a  respectable  defensive  posture,  we  may  safely  trust  to  tern* 
porary  alliances  for  extraordinary  emergencies. 

Harmony,  liberal  intercourse  with  all  nations,  are  recommended 
by  policy,  humanity,  and  interest.  But  even  our  commercial  policy 
should  hold  an  equal  and  impartial  hand;  neither  seeking  nor 
granting  exclusive  favors  or  preferences ;  consulting  the  natural 
course  of  things ;  diffusing  and  diversifying  by  gentle  means  the 
streams  of  commerce,  but  forcing  nothing;  establishing,  with 
powers  so  disposed,  in  order  to  give  trade  a  stable  course,  to 
define  the  rights  of  our  merchants,  and  to  enable  the  govern 
ment  to  support  them,  conventional  rules  of  intercourse,  the  best 
that  present  circumstances  and  mutual  opinion  will  permit,  but 
temporary,  and  liable  to  be  from  time  to  time  abandoned  or  varied, 
as  experience  and  circumstances  shall  dictate  ;  constantly  keeping 
in  view,  that  it  is  folly  in  one  nation  to  look  for  disinterested  favors 
from  another ;  that  it  must  pay  with  a  portion  of  its  independence 
for  whatever  it  may  accept  under  that  character ;  that,  by  such 
acceptance,  it  may  place  itself  in  the  condition  of  having  given 
equivalents  for  nominal  favors,  and  yet  of  being  reproached  with 
ingratitude  for  not  giving  more.  There  can  be  no  greater  error 
than  to  expect  or  calculate  upon  real  favors  from  nation  to  nation. 
It  is  an  illusion,  which  experience  must  cure,  which  a  just  pride 
ought  to  discard. 


36  GEORGE    WASHINGTON1 

In  offering  to  you,  my  countrymen,  these  counsels  of  an  old  and 
affectionate  friend,  I  dare  not  hope  they  will  make  the  strong  and 
lasting  impression  I  could  wish ;  that  they  will  control  the  usual 
current  of  the  passions,  or  prevent  our  nation  from  running  the 
course,  which  has  hitherto  marked  the  destiny  of  nations.  But,  if 
I  may  even  flatter  myself,  that  they  may  be  productive  of  some 
partial  benefit,  some  occasional  good ;  that  they  may  now  and 
then  recur  to  moderate  the  fury  of  party  spirit,  to  warn  against  the 
mischiefs  of  foreign  intrigue,  to  guard  against  the  impostures  of 
pretended  patriotism ;  this  hope  will  be  a  full  recompense  for  the 
solicitude  for  your  welfare,  by  which  they  have  been  dictated. 

How  far  in  the  discharge  of  my  official  duties,  I  have  been 
guided  by  the  principles  which  have  been  delineated,  the  public 
records  and  other  evidences  of  my  conduct  must  witness  to  you 
an4  to  the  world.  To  myself,  the  assurance  of  my  own  conscience 
is,  that  I  have  at  least  believed  myself  to  be  guided  by  them.  .  .  . 

Though,  in  reviewing  the  incidents  of  my  administration,  I  am 
unconscious  of  intentional  error,  I  am  nevertheless  too  sensible  of 
my  defects  not  to  think  it  probable  that  I  may  have  committed 
many  errors.  Whatever  they  may  be,  I  fervently  beseech  the 
Almighty  to  avert  or  mitigate  the  evils  to  which  they  may  tend. 
I  shall  also  carry  with  me  the  hope,  that  my  Country  will  never 
cease  to  view  them  with  indulgence ;  and  that,  after  forty-five 
years  of  my  life  dedicated  to  its  service  with  an  upright  zeal,  the 
faults  of  incompetent  abilities  will  be  consigned  to  oblivion,  as  my 
self  must  soon  be  to  the  mansions  of  rest. 

Relying  on  its  kindness  in  this  as  in  other  things,  and  actuated 
by  that  fervent  love  towards  it,  which  is  so  natural  to  a  man,  who 
views  in  it  the  native  soil  of  himself  and  his  progenitors  for  several 
generations  ;  I  anticipate  with  pleasing  expectation  that  retreat,  in 
which  I  promise  myself  to  realize,  without  alloy,  the  sweet  enjoy 
ment  of  partaking,  in  the  midst  of  my  fellow-citizens,  the  benign 
influence  of  good  laws  under  a  free  government,  the  ever  favorite 
object  of  my  heart,  and  the  happy  reward,  as  I  trust,  of  our  mutual 
cares,  labors,  and  dangers. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

United  States,  September  igth,  1796. 


PATRICK  HENRY  37 


PATRICK   HENRY 

[PATRICK  HENRY,  the  most  impassioned  of  American  orators  and  an  impor 
tant  statesman  of  the  Revolution,  was  born  of  mixed  English  and  Scotch 
parentage  at  Studley,  Hanover  County,  Virginia,  on  May  29,  1736,  and  died 
at  Red  Hill,  Charlotte  County,  on  June  6, 1 799.  His  early  attempts  to  succeed 
as  a  farmer  and  a  storekeeper  were  unsuccessful,  and  he  turned  to  the  law  in 
1760.  He  was  already  married  and  needed  the  fees  that  soon  came  to  him. 
Late  in  1763  he  showed  himself  to  be  a  great  orator  and  a  tribune  of  the 
people  in  what  was  known  as  the  "  Parson's  Cause  "  —  a  case  which  involved 
not  merely  the  power  of  the  legislature  to  determine  the  money  price  of  the 
tobacco  in  which  a  clergyman's  salary  was  paid,  but  also  a  protest  against  the 
conduct  of  the  king  in  not  approving  an  important  act  of  the  Burgesses. 
Then  came  the  Stamp  Act  agitation  during  which  Henry  was  elected  a  Burgess. 
He  introduced  bold  resolutions  against  the  act,  and  carried  them  by  his 
astonishing  eloquence,  although  opposed  by  many  of  the  best  men  in  the  as 
sembly.  Eight  years  later  he  was  prominent  in  the  opening  events  of  the 
Revolution.  He  served  in  the  first  Continental  Congress  and  extended  his 
fame  as  an  orator.  In  the  Virginia  Convention  of  1775  he  delivered  the 
famous  speech  from  Wirt's  version  of  which  an  extract  is  here  given.  Then 
he  saw  a  little  military  service,  and  became  the  first  governor  of  the  state  of 
Virginia.  He  was  reelected  in  1777  and  in  1778,  and  some  years  later  served 
two  additional  terms.  Perhaps  his  most  important  executive  act  was  his  en 
couragement  of  the  plans  of  George  Rogers  Clark  to  conquer  the  Northwest 
Territory.  After  the  Revolution  he  practised  law  with  much  success  and 
maintained  a  hold  upon  the  affections  of  his  fellow- Virginians  which  almost 
equalled  that  of  Washington.  The  latter  would  have  made  him  Secretary  of 
State  and  Chief  Justice,  but  he  refused.  Like  many  other  men  of  his  time, 
he  thought  more  of  state  than  of  national  honors,  arid  he  was  one  of  the  most 
strenuous  of  the  critics  of  the  new  Constitution,  in  which,  with  great  foresight, 
he  divined  an  instrument  which  would  be  used  to  subordinate  the  states  to 
the  federal  government.  On  the  whole,  he  was  a  loyal,  conservative  states 
man  and  a  lawyer  of  ability,  his  deficiencies,  especially  of  education,  having 
been  exaggerated.  But  it  is  as  an  orator  that  he  is  chiefly  remembered.  He 
belongs  to  the  inspired,  improvisational  class  of  which  Chatham  is  a  good 
example,  rather  than  to  the  weighty,  more  deliberate,  and  prepared  class  of 
which  Webster  is  the  chief  American  representative.  A  few  reported  speeches 
and  the  tributes  of  qualified  judges  who  heard  him,  such  as  Thomas  Jefferson, 
along  with  the  praise  of  contemporaries  and  the  voice  of  tradition,  form  the 
basis  of  his  reputation  to-day,  and  scarcely  afford  means  for  a  comparison  of 


38  PATRICK  HENRY 

his  powers  as  an  orator  with  those  of  Webster  or  Clay.  Yet  there  can  be  but 
little  doubt  that  in  sheer  fire  of  genius,  Patrick  Henry  has  never  been  sur 
passed  as  an  orator  by  any  American.  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke,  himself  a 
great  orator,  declared  that  he  was  Shakespeare  and  Garrick  combined  —  an 
exaggeration  in  which  there  is  a  kernel  of  truth.  The  best  biography  of 
Henry  is  that  by  his  grandson,  the  late  William  Wirt  Henry  of  Richmond,  in 
three  volumes  (1891) — one  of  the  best  examples  of  latter-day  Southern 
scholarship.  There  is  also  a  good  memoir  in  the  "American  Statesmen" 
series  by  the  late  Professor  Moses  Coit  Tyler  (1887).  The  most  famous 
biography  is  that  by  William  Wirt  (?.z>.)>  tne  first  edition  of  which  appeared 
in  1817.  Wirt,  misled  by  the  recollections  of  the  aging  Jefferson  and  by  his 
own  desire  to  write  a  striking  book,  did  much  to  create  the  impression  that 
Patrick  Henry  was  a  prodigy  rather  than  a  great  and  solid  man.] 


THE  ALTERNATIVE 

[FROM  A  SPEECH  IN  THE  VIRGINIA  CONVENTION,  MARCH,  1775,  GIVEN  IN 
WIRT'S  "LIFE  OF  HENRY,"  25™  EDITION.] 

MR.  PRESIDENT  : 1  it  is  natural  to  man  to  indulge  in  the  illusions 
of  hope.  We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes  against  a  painful  truth  — 
and  listen  to  the  song  of  that  syren,  till  she  transforms  us  into  beasts. 
Is  this  the  part  of  wise  men,  engaged  in  a  great  and  arduous 
struggle  for  liberty  ?  Are  we  disposed  to  be  of  the  number  of 
those,  who  having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  hear  not,  the 
things  which  so  nearly  concern  their  temporal  salvation  ?  For 
my  part,  whatever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may  cost,  I  am  willing  to 
know  the  whole  truth ;  to  know  the  worst,  and  to  provide  for  it. 

I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are  guided ;  and  that  is 
the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no  way  of  judging  of  the  fu 
ture  but  by  the  past.  And  judging  by  the  past,  I  wish  to  know 
what  there  has  been  in  the  conduct  of  the  British  ministry  for  the 
last  ten  years,  to  justify  those  hopes  with  which  gentlemen  have 
been  pleased  to  solace  themselves  and  the  house.  "  Is  it  that  in 
sidious  smile  with  which  our  petition  has  been  lately  received  ? 
Trust  it  not,  sir ;  it  will  prove  a  snare  to  your  feet.  Suffer  not 

1  The  text  has  been  slightly  changed  in  tenses  and  persons  to  give  more  vivid 
ness,  since  Wirt  gave  portions  of  the  speech  in  the  third  person.  Phrases  such  as 
"  said  he "  have  been  omitted.  The  passages  in  quotation  marks  are,  however, 
unchanged. 


THE  ALTERNATIVE 


39 


yourselves  to  be  betrayed  with  a  kiss.  Ask  yourselves  how  this 
gracious  reception  of  our  petition  comports  with  those  warlike 
preparations  which  cover  our  waters  and  darken  our  land.  Are 
fleets  and  armies  necessary  to  a  work  of  love  and  reconciliation? 
Have  we  shown  ourselves  so  unwilling  to  be  reconciled  that  force 
must  be  called  in  to  win  back  our  love  ?  Let  us  not  deceive  our 
selves,  sir.  These  are  the  implements  of  war  and  subjugation  — 
the  last  arguments  to  which  kings  resort.  I  ask  gentlemen,  sir, 
what  means  this  martial  array,  if  its  purpose  be  not  to  force  us  to 
submission?  Can  gentlemen  assign  any  other  possible  motive  for 
it?  Has  Great  Britain  any  enemy  in  this  quarter  of  the  world,  to 
call  for  all  this  accumulation  of  navies  and  armies  ?  No,  sir,  she 
has  none.  They  are  meant  for  us :  they  can  be  meant  for  no 
other.  They  are  sent  over  to  bind  and  rivet  upon  us  those  chains 
which  the  British  ministry  have  been  so  long  forging.  And  what 
have  we  to  oppose  to  them?  Shall  we  try  argument?  Sir,  we 
have  been  trying  that  for  the  last  ten  years.  Have  we  anything 
new  to  offer  upon  the  subject?  Nothing.  We  have  held  the  sub 
ject  up  in  every  light  of  which  it  is  capable ;  but  it  has  been  all 
in  vain.  Shall  we  resort  to  entreaty  and  humble  supplication? 
What  terms  shall  we  find  which  have  not  been  already  exhausted  ? 
Let  us  not;  I  beseech  you,  sir,  deceive  ourselves  longer.  Sir,  we 
have  done  everything  that  could  be  done  to  avert  the  storm  which 
is  now  coming  on.  We  have  petitioned  —  we  have  remonstrated 
—  we  have  supplicated  —  we  have  prostrated  ourselves  before  the 
throne,  and  have  implored  its  interposition  to  arrest  the  tyrannical 
hands  of  the  ministry  and  parliament.  Our  petitions  have  been 
slighted ;  our  remonstrances  have  produced  additional  violence 
and  insult ;  our  supplications  have  been  disregarded ;  and  we 
have  been  spurned,  with  contempt,  from  the  foot  of  the  throne. 
In  vain,  after  these  things,  may  we  indulge  the  fond  hope  of  peace 
and  reconciliation.  There  is  no  longer  any  room  for  hope.  If  we 
wish  to  be  free  —  if  we  mean  to  preserve  inviolate  those  inesti 
mable  privileges  for  which  we  have  been  so  long  contending  —  if 
we  mean  not  basely  to  abandon  the  noble  struggle  in  which  we  have 
been  so  long  engaged,  and  which  we  have  pledged  ourselves  never 
to  abandon  until  the  glorious  object  of  our  contest  shall  be  ob- 


40  PATRICK  HENRY 

tained  —  we  must  fight !  —  I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight !  !  An 
appeal  to  arms  and  to  the  God  of  Hosts,  is  all  that  is  left 
us!" 

They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak  —  unable  to  cope  with  so  for 
midable  an  adversary.  "But  when  shall  we  be  stronger?  Will  it 
be  the  next  week  or  the  next  year  ?  Will  it  be  when  we  are  totally 
disarmed,  and  when  a  British  guard  shall  be  stationed  in  every 
house?  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irresolution  and  inaction? 
Shall  we  acquire  the  means  of  effectual  resistance  by  lying  supinely 
on  our  backs,  and  hugging  the  delusive  phantom  of  hope,  until 
our  enemies  shall  have  bound  us  hand  and  foot?  Sir,  we  are  not 
weak,  if  we  make  a  proper  use  of  those  means  which  the  God  of 
nature  hath  placed  in  our  power.  Three  millions  of  people  armed 
in  the  holy  cause  of  liberty  and  in  such  a  country  as  that  which 
we  possess,  are  invincible  by  any  force  which  our  enemy  can  send 
against  us.  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles  alone. 
There  is  a  just  God  who  presides  over  the  destinies  of  nations, 
and  who  will  raise  up  friends  to  fight  our  battles  for  us.  The 
battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong  alone ;  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the 
active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we  have  no  election.  If  we  were 
base  enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  con 
test.  There  is  no  retreat  but  in  submission  and  slavery  !  Our 
chains  are  forged.  Their  clanking  may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of 
Boston  !  The  war  is  inevitable  —  and  let  it  come  ! !  I  repeat  it, 
sir,  let  it  come  !  ! ! 

"It  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen  may 
cry,  peace,  peace  —  but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war  is  actually 
begun  !  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north  will  bring  to 
our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms  !  Our  brethren  are  already 
in  the  field  !  Why  stand  we  here  idle?  What  is  it  that  gentle 
men  wish  ?  What  would  they  have  ?  Is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so 
sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and  slavery? 
Forbid  it,  Almighty  God  !  —  I  know  not  what  course  others  may 
take ;  but  as  for  me,1  give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death  ! " 

1  Here  Wirt  inserted,  "  cried  he,  with  both  his  arms  extended  aloft,  his  brows 
knit,  every  feature  marked  with  the  resolute  purpose  of  his  soul,  and  his  voice 
swelled  to  its  boldest  note  of  exclamation. " 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  41 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON 

[THOMAS  JEFFERSON  was  born  of  a  good  family  at  Shadwell,  Albemarle 
County,  Virginia,  April  13,  1743,  and  died  at  Monticello  near  by,  in  the  same 
county,  July  4,  1826.  He  received  an  excellent  education  at  William  and  Mary 
College,  and  saw  much  of  the  best  society.  He  studied  law  under  Chancellor 
Wythe,  began  to  practise  at  the  bar,  and  achieved  at  once  a  considerable  success. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-six  he  entered  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and  served  off  and 
on  with  much  distinction  until  the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution.  He  then 
entered  Congress,  where  he  succeeded  John  Dickinson  as  the  chief  drafter 
of  state  papers,  the  most  important  of  these  being  the  "  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence."  After  this  he  returned  to  Virginia  politics,  labored  successfully  to 
modify  the  state  laws  in  a  democratic  direction,  and  served  as  governor  for 
two  years,  during  which  period  his  administration  was  much  harassed  by  the 
invasions  of  the  British.  In  1783  he  reentered  Congress  and  took  part  in 
important  legislation.  The  next  year  he  went  to  France  as  minister  plenipo 
tentiary,  succeeding  Franklin  in  1785.  His  career  as  a  diplomat  was  suc 
cessful,  but  was  cut  short  by  his  acceptance  of  the  post  of  Secretary  of  State 
in  Washington's  first  cabinet.  He  was  subsequently  elected  Vice-President 
in  1797  and  President  from  1801  to  1809.  His  two  presidential  administra 
tions  were  marked  rather  by  profound  influence  than  by  overtly  exerted 
executive  force,  but  the  first  secured  to  the  country  the  vast  territory  of 
Louisiana.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  disciple  Madison,  and  during  his  re 
tirement  at  Monticello  he  maintained  his  grip  upon  politics  through  his  large 
correspondence.  From  1817  to  his  death  he  was  mainly  interested  in  founding 
the  University  of  Virginia.  Throughout  his  old  age  he  was  looked  up  to  as 
the  chief  political  theorist  and  most  typical  republican  of  the  country,  but  this 
public  homage  entailed  a  hospitality  that  left  him  poor. 

If  Jefferson  be  judged  by  any  single  piece  of  work,  except  perhaps  the 
"  Declaration  of  Independence,"  or  by  the  general  qualities  of  his  style,  he  can 
not  in  any  fairness  be  termed  a  great  writer.  This  is  true  despite  the  many 
excellences  of  the  "Notes  on  Virginia,"  his  only  book,  of  his  state  papers,  and 
of  his  countless  letters,  which,  while  fascinating  to  the  student  of  his  character, 
are  rather  barren  of  charm  when  read  without  some  ulterior  purpose. 

Yet  he  was  surely  in  one  important  respect  a  greater  writer  than  any  of  his 
American  forerunners  and  contemporaries,  not  even  Franklin  excepted.  His 
was  the  most  influential  pen  of  his  times,  and  it  is  to  his  writings  that  posterity 
turns  with  most  interest  whenever  the  purposes,  the  hopes,  the  fears  of  the  great 
Revolutionary  epoch  become  matters  of  study.  They  reveal  also  the  per 
sonality  of  Jefferson  himself,  but  so  subtle  was  that  great  man  that  we  can 


42  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

never  feel  that  we  understand  him  fully.  We  may  learn  to  understand,  how 
ever,  with  fair  thoroughness  the  theory  of  government  that  he  had  worked 
out  for  himself  from  French  and  English  sources;  we  may  see  how  every  letter 
he  wrote  carried  his  democratic  doctrines  farther  afield  ;  we  may  feel  him 
getting  a  firm  grasp  not  merely  upon  his  contemporaries,  but  upon  generations 
yet  to  be  ;  finally,  we  can  observe  yawning  across  his  later  writings  the  politi 
cal  chasm  into  which  the  young  republic  was  one  day  to  fall.  But  writings 
that  enable  us  to  do  all  this  are  certainly  great  in  their  way,  and  so  is  the 
hand  that  penned  them,  and  in  a  way  Jefferson  has  given  us  a  masterpiece. 
The  "  Declaration  of  Independence,"  whatever  may  be  the  justice  of  the  criti 
cisms  directed  against  this  and  that  clause  or  statement,  is  a  true  piece  of 
literature,  because  ever  since  it  was  written  it  has  been  alive  with  emotion. 
Though  we  were  to  read  it  a  thousand  times,  it  would  stir  every  one  of  us 
that  loves  liberty  and  his  native  land  and  has  a  sense  for  the  rhetoric  of 
denunciation  and  aspiration.  It  is  true  that  our  national  taste  has  changed, 
and  that  the  fervent  eloquence  of  the  Declaration  would  be  distinctly  out  of 
place  to-day.  This  is  only  to  say  that  the  art  of  writing  prose  has  made  great 
strides  since  Jefferson's  time  ;  but  we  must  not  forget  that,  if  his  pen  was  not 
that  of  a  chastened  writer,  it  was  nevertheless  that  of  a  ready  and  a  wonder 
fully  effective  one. 

There  are  two  elaborate  editions  of  Jefferson's  writings,  the  so-called  "  Con 
gressional  "  in  nine  volumes  and  that  of  Paul  Leicester  Ford  in  ten  (1892- 
1899).  The  text  of  the  latter  is  followed  here  with  the  kind  permission  of 
the  publishers,  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons.  There  are  numerous  biographies,  includ 
ing  George  Tucker's  (1837),  H.  S.  Randall's  in  three  volumes  (1858),  James 
Parton's  (1874),  and  John  T.  Morse's  in  the  "American  Statesmen"  (1883).] 


JEFFERSON   ON   FRANCE 

[FROM  HIS  "AUTOBIOGRAPHY."] 

AND  here,  I  cannot  leave  this  great  and  good  country  without 
expressing  my  sense  of  its  preeminence  of  character  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth.  A  more  benevolent  people  I  have  never 
known,  nor  greater  warmth  and  devotedness  in  their  select  friend 
ships.  Their  kindness  and  accommodation  to  strangers  is  unpar 
alleled,  and  the  hospitality  of  Paris  is  beyond  anything  I  had 
conceived  to  be  practicable  in  a  large  city.  Their  eminence,  too, 
in  science,  the  communicative  dispositions  of  their  scientific  men, 
the  politeness  of  the  general  manners,  the  ease  and  vivacity  of  their 
conversation,  give  a  charm  to  their  society,  to  be  found  nowhere 


FIRST  INAUGURAL  ADDRESS  43 

else.  In  a  comparison  of  this,  with  other  countries,  we  have  the 
proof  of  primacy,  which  was  given  to  Themistocles,  after  the  bat 
tle  of  Salamis.  Every  general  voted  to  himself  the  first  reward 
of  valor,  and  the  second  to  Themistocles.  So,  ask  the  travelled 
inhabitant  of  any  nation,  in  what  country  on  earth  would  you 
rather  live  ?  Certainly,  in  my  own,  where  are  all  my  friends,  my 
relations,  and  the  earliest  and  sweetest  affections  and  recollections 
of  my  life.  Which  would  be  your  second  choice  ?  France. 


FIRST   INAUGURAL  ADDRESS1 
[DELIVERED  MARCH  4,  1801.] 

Friends  and  fellow-citizens  : 

Called  upon  to  undertake  the  duties  of  the  first  executive  office 
of  our  country,  I  avail  myself  of  the  presence  of  that  portion  of 
my  fellow-citizens  which  is  here  assembled,  to  express  my  grateful 
thanks  for  the  favor  with  which  they  have  been  pleased  to  look 
towards  me,  to  declare  a  sincere  consciousness  that  the  task  is 
above  my  talents,  and  that  I  approach  it  with  those  anxious  and 
awful  presentiments  which  the  greatness  of  the  charge  and  the 
weakness  of  my  powers  so  justly  inspire.  A  rising  nation,  spread 
over  a  wide  and  fruitful  land ;  traversing  all  the  seas  with  the  rich 
productions  of  their  industry ;  engaged  in  commerce  with  nations 
who  feel  power  and  forget  right ;  advancing  rapidly  to  destinies 
beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  eye,  —  when  I  contemplate  these  tran 
scendent  objects,  and  see  the  honor,  the  happiness,  and  the  hopes 
of  this  beloved  country  committed  to  the  issue  and  the  auspices 
of  this  day,  I  shrink  from  the  contemplation,  and  humble  myself 
before  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking.  Utterly,  indeed,  should 
I  despair,  did  not  the  presence  of  many  whom  I  here  see  remind 
me  that  in  the  other  high  authorities  provided  by  our  Constitution 
I  shall  find  resources  of  wisdom,  of  virtue,  and  of  zeal,  on  which 
to  rely  under  all  difficulties.  To  you,  then,  gentlemen,  who  are 
charged  with  the  sovereign  functions  of  legislation,  and  to  those 
associated  with  you,  I  look  with  encouragement  for  that  guidance 

1  This  address  may  fairly  be  regarded  as  one  of  our  great  political  classics. 


44  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

and  support  which  may  enable  us  to  steer  with  safety  the  vessel  in 
which  we  are  all  embarked,  amid  the  conflicting  elements  of  a 
troubled  sea. 

During  the  contest  of  opinion  through  which  we  have  passed, 
the  animation  of  discussion  and  of  exertions  has  sometimes  worn 
an  aspect  which  might  impose  on  strangers,  unused  to  think  freely, 
and  to  speak  and  to  write  what  they  think.  But,  this  being  now 
decided  by  the  voice  of  the  nation,  enounced  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  Constitution,  all  will,  of  course,  arrange  themselves 
under  the  will  of  the  law,  and  unite  in  common  efforts  for  the 
common  good.  All,  too,  will  bear  in  mind  this  sacred  principle, 
that,  though  the  will  of  the  majority  is  in  all  cases  to  prevail,  that 
will,  to  be  rightful,  must  be  reasonable ;  that  the  minority  possess 
their  equal  rights,  which  equal  laws  must  protect,  and  to  violate 
[which]  would  be  oppression.  Let  us,  then,  fellow-citizens,  unite 
with  one  heart  and  one  mind ;  let  us  restore  to  social  intercourse 
that  harmony  and  affection  without  which  liberty  and  even  life  it 
self  are  but  dreary  things.  And  let  us  reflect  that  having  banished 
from  our  land  that  religious  intolerance  under  which  mankind  so 
long  bled  and  suffered,  we  have  yet  gained  little  if  we  countenance 
a  political  intolerance  as  despotic,  as  wicked,  and  capable  of  as 
bitter  and  bloody  persecutions.  During  the  throes  and  convul 
sions  of  the  ancient  world,  during  the  agonized  spasms  of  infuri 
ated  man,  seeking  through  blood  and  slaughter  his  long-lost  liberty, 
it  was  not  wonderful  that  the  agitation  of  the  billows  should  reach 
even  this  distant  and  peaceful  shore ;  that  this  should  be  more 
felt  and  feared  by  some  and  less  by  others,  and  should  divide 
opinions  as  to  measures  of  safety.  But  every  difference  of  opinion 
is  not  a  difference  of  principle.  We  have  called  by  different 
names  brethren  of  the  same  principle.  We  are  all  republicans ; 
we  are  all  federalists.  If  there  be  any  among  us  who  would  wish 
to  dissolve  this  Union,  or  to  change  its  republican  form,  let  them 
stand,  undisturbed,  as  monuments  of  the  safety  with  which  error 
of  opinion  may  be  tolerated  where  reason  is  left  free  to  combat  it. 
I  know,  indeed,  that  some  honest  men  have  feared  that  a  republican 
government  cannot  be  strong ;  that  this  government  is  not  strong 
enough.  But  would  the  honest  patriot,  in  the  full  tide  of  success- 


FIRST  INAUGURAL  ADDRESS  45 

ful  experiment,  abandon  a  government  which  has  so  far  kept  us 
free  and  firm,  on  the  theoretic  and  visionary  fear  that  this  govern 
ment,  the  world's  best  hope,  may,  by  possibility,  want  energy  to 
preserve  itself  ?  I  trust  not.  I  believe  this,  on  the  contrary,  the 
strongest  government  on  earth.  I  believe  it  is  the  only  one  where 
every  man,  at  the  call  of  the  law,  would  fly  to  the  standard  of  the 
law,  arid  would  meet  invasions  of  public  order  as  his  own  per 
sonal  concern.  Sometimes  it  is  said  that  man  cannot  be  trusted 
with  the  government  of  himself.  Can  he,  then,  be  trusted  with 
the  government  of  others  ?  Or  have  we  found  angels  in  the  form 
of  kings  to  govern  him  ?  Let  history  answer  this  question. 

Let  us,  then,  pursue  with  courage  and  confidence,  our  own 
federal  and  republican  principles,  our  attachment  to  Union  and 
representative  government.  Kindly  separated  by  nature  and  a 
wide  ocean  from  the  exterminating  havoc  of  one  quarter  of  the 
globe ;  too  high-minded  to  endure  the  degradations  of  the  others ; 
possessing  a  chosen  country,  with  room  enough  for  all  descend 
ants  to  the  hundredth  and  thousandth  generation ;  entertaining  a 
due  sense  of  our  equal  right  to  the  use  of  our  own  faculties,  to  the 
acquisitions  of  our  industry,  to  honor  and  confidence  from  our  fel 
low-citizens,  resulting  not  from  birth  but  from  our  actions,  and 
their  sense  of  them ;  enlightened  by  a  benign  religion,  professed, 
indeed,  and  practiced  in  various  forms,  yet  all  of  them  inculcat 
ing  honesty,  truth,  temperance,  gratitude,  and  the  love  of  man ; 
acknowledging  and  adoring  an  overruling  Providence,  which,  by 
all  its  dispensations,  proves  that  it  delights  in  the  happiness  of 
man  here,  and  his  greater  happiness  hereafter ;  with  all  these  bless 
ings,  what  more  is  necessary  to  make  us  a  happy  and  a  prosperous 
people  ?  Still  one  thing  more,  fellow-citizens,  —  a  wise  and  frugal 
government,  which  shall  restrain  men  from  injuring  one  another, 
shall  leave  them  otherwise  free  to  regulate  their  own  pursuits  of 
industry  and  improvement,  and  shall  not  take  from  the  mouth 
of  labor  the  bread  it  has  earned.  This  is  the  sum  of  good  govern 
ment,  and  this  is  necessary  to  close  the  circle  of  our  felicities. 

About  to  enter,  fellow-citizens,  on  the  exercise  of  duties  which 
comprehend  everything  dear  and  valuable  to  you,  it  is  proper 
you  should  understand  what  I  deem  the  essential  principle [s]  of 


46  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

this  government,  and,  consequently,  those  which  ought  to  shape 
its  administration.  I  will  compress  them  in  the  narrowest  com 
pass  they  will  bear,  stating  the  general  principle,  but  not  all  its 
limitations.  Equal  and  exact  justice  to  all  men,  of  whatever  state 
or  persuasion,  religious  or  political ;  peace,  commerce,  and  honest 
friendship  with  all  nations,  entangling  alliances  with  none;  the 
support  of  the  State  governments  in  all  their  rights,  as  the  most 
competent  administrations  for  our  domestic  concerns,  and  the 
surest  bulwarks  against  anti-republican  tendencies ;  the  preserva 
tion  of  the  General  Government  in  its  whole  constitutional  vigor, 
as  the  sheet-anchor  of  our  peace  at  home  and  safety  abroad ;  a 
jealous  care  of  the  right  of  election  by  the  people,  —  a  mild  and 
safe  corrective  of  abuses  which  are  lopped  by  the  sword  of  revolu 
tion,  where  peaceable  remedies  are  unprovided ;  absolute  acqui 
escence  in  the  decisions  of  the  majority,  —  the  vital  principle  of 
republics,  from  which  is  no  appeal  but  to  force,  the  vital  principle 
and  immediate  parent  of  despotism ;  a  well-disciplined  militia,  — 
our  best  reliance  in  peace  and  for  the  first  moments  of  war,  till 
regulars  may  relieve  them ;  the  supremacy  of  the  civil  over  the 
military  authority ;  economy  in  the  public  expense,  that  labor  may 
be  lightly  burdened  ;  the  honest  payment  of  our  debts  and  sacred 
preservation  of  the  public  faith ;  encouragement  of  agriculture, 
and  of  commerce  as  its  handmaid  ;  the  diffusion  of  information  and 
arraignment  of  all  abuses  at  the  bar  of  the  public  reason ;  freedom 
of  religion,  freedom  of  the  press,  and  freedom  of  person  under  the 
protection  of  the  habeas  corpus  ;  and  trial  by  juries  impartially  se 
lected.  These  principles  form  the  bright  constellation  which  has 
gone  before  us,  and  guided  our  steps  through  an  age  of  revolution 
and  reformation.  The  wisdom  of  our  sages  and  blood  of  our 
heroes  have  been  devoted  to  their  attainment.  They  should  be 
the  creed  of  our  political  faith,  the  text  of  civic  instruction,  the 
touchstone  by  which  to  try  the  services  of  those  we  trust;  and 
should  we  wander  from  them  in  moments  of  error  or  alarm,  let 
us  hasten  to  retrace  our  steps,  and  to  regain  the  road  which  alone 
leads  to  peace,  liberty,  and  safety. 

"  I  repair,  then,  fellow-citizens,  to   the    post  which  you  have 
assigned  me.     With  experience  enough  in  subordinate  stations  to 


DAVID  RAMSAY  47 

know  the  difficulties  of  this,  the  greatest  of  all,  I  have  learned  to 
expect  that  it  will  rarely  fall  to  the  lot  of  imperfect  man  to  retire 
from  this  station  with  the  reputation  and  the  favor  which  bring  him 
into  it.  Without  pretensions  to  that  high  confidence  you  reposed 
in  our  first  and  greatest  revolutionary  character,  whose  preeminent 
services  had  entitled  him  to  the  first  place  in  his  country's  love,  and 
had  destined  for  him  the  fairest  page  in  the  volume  of  faithful  his 
tory,  I  ask  so  much  confidence  only  as  may  give  firmness  and  effect 
to  the  legal  administration  of  your  affairs.  I  shall  often  go  wrong, 
through  defect  of  judgment.  When  right,  I  shall  often  be  thought 
wrong  by  those  whose  positions  will  not  command  a  view  of 
the  whole  ground.  I  ask  your  indulgence  for  my  own  errors, 
which  will  never  be  intentional;  and  your  support  against  the 
errors  of  others,  who  may  condemn  what  they  would  not,  if  seen 
in  all  its  parts.  The  approbation  implied  by  your  suffrage  is  a 
great  consolation  to  me  for  the  past ;  and  my  future  solicitude  will 
be  to  retain  the  good  opinion  of  those  who  have  bestowed  it  in  ad 
vance,  to  conciliate  that  of  others  by  doing  them  all  the  good  in 
my  power,  and  to  be  instrumental  to  the  happiness  and  freedom 
of  all. 

Relying,  then,  on  the  patronage  of  your  good  will,  I  advance 
with  obedience  to  the  work,  ready  to  retire  from  it  whenever  you 
become  sensible  how  much  better  choice  it  is  in  your  power  to 
make.  And  may  that  Infinite  Power  which  rules  the  destinies  of 
the  universe,  lead  our  councils  to  what  is  best,  and  give  them  a 
favorable  issue  for  your  peace  and  prosperity. 


DAVID    RAMSAY 

[DAVID  RAMSAY  was  born  in  Lancaster  County,  Pennsylvania,  April  2, 1749, 
and  died  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  May  8, 1815.  He  graduated  at  Princeton, 
taught  for  some  years,  studied  medicine  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
settled  at  Charleston.  Here  he  not  only  practised  his  profession,  but  served  the 
Revolutionary  cause  with  such  zeal  that  in  1780  he  was  put  into  close  confine 
ment  at  St.  Augustine  by  the  British.  After  the  Revolution  he  was  a  member  of 
the  Continental  Congress,  and  of  the  Senate  of  South  Carolina,  over  which  he  pre- 


48  DAVID  RAMSAY 

sided  for  some  years.  It  was  chiefly,  however,  for  his  attainments,  in  medical 
science  and  in  American  history  that  he  was  distinguished  among  his  contem 
poraries,  and  it  is  his  writings  in  the  latter  category  that  have  preserved  his 
name.  A  popular  tract  was  his  "  Sermon  on  Tea  "  from  the  text  "  Touch  not, 
taste  not,  handle  not."  In  1785  he  published  a  "  History  of  the  Revolution  in 
South  Carolina,"  and  four  years  later  a  more  extended  account  of  the  move 
ment  in  which  he  had  participated  and  about  which  he  had  gathered  much 
information.  This  was  his  "  History  of  the  American  Revolution  "  in  two 
volumes  (1789)  from  which  a  selection  is  here  given.  In  1807  he  published  a 
biography  of  Washington,  and  in  1809  a  "  History  of  South  Carolina  from  its 
Settlement  in  1670  to  the  Year  1808,"  a  work  in  two  volumes  which  has  long 
ranked  with  the  best  of  the  earlier  local  histories.  Among  his  other  writings 
were  a  memorial  volume  devoted  to  his  second  wife  Martha,  a  daughter  of 
Henry  Laurens(^.z>.),  —  his  first  wife  was  a  daughter  of  another  Revolutionary 
leader,  John  Witherspoon,  —  and  a  "  History  of  the  United  States,"  which 
was  continued  by  other  hands  and  incorporated  in  a  universal  history.  Dr. 
Ramsay,  who  died  from  wounds  inflicted  by  a  maniac  whom  he  had  examined 
professionally,  was  a  good,  clear  writer  and  deserves  to  rank  with  Jeremy  Bel- 
knap,  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  and  other  distinguished  historians  and  publicists  of 
the  early  republic.  It  may  be  mentioned  that  his  brother,  Colonel  Nathaniel 
Ramsay,  was  a  brave  soldier  of  the  Revolution  and  a  successful  lawyer  in 
Maryland.  It  may  also  be  recalled  as  a  curious  coincidence  that  Hugh 
Williamson  (1735-1819),  the  historian  of  the  neighboring  state  of  North 
Carolina,  was  also  a  native  of  Pennsylvania,  a  learned  physician,  a  surgeon 
in  the  Revolution,  and  an  important  participator  in  the  politics  of  the  times. 
Unlike  Dr.  Ramsay,  however,  he  did  not  make  his  permanent  home  in  the 
South,  but  after  1793  lived  in  New  York  City.  His  "  History  of  North 
Carolina"  appeared  in  1812.] 


SOME   RESULTS   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

[FROM  "THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION"  (1789), 
APPENDIX  IV.] 

THE  American  revolution,  on  the  one  hand,  brought  forth  great 
vices ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  it  called  forth  many  virtues,  and  gave 
occasion  for  the  display  of  abilities  which,  but  for  that  event,  would 
have  been  lost  to  the  world.  When  the  war  began,  the  Americans 
were  a  mass  of  husbandmen,  merchants,  mechanics,  and  fisher 
men  ;  but  the  necessities  of  the  country  gave  a  spring  to  the  active 
powers  of  the  inhabitants,  and  set  them  on  thinking,  speaking,  and 
acting  in  a  line  far  beyond  that  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed. 


SOME  RESULTS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION  49 

The  difference  between  nations  is  not  so  much  owing  to  nature,  as 
to  education  and  circumstances.  While  the  Americans  were  guided 
by  the  leading-strings  of  the  mother  country,  thay  had  no  scope  nor 
encouragement  for  exertion.  All  the  departments  of  government 
were  established  and  executed  for  them,  but  not  by  them.  In  the 
years  1775  and  1776,  the  country  being  suddenly  thrown  into  a 
situation  that  needed  the  abilities  of  all  its  sons,  these  generally 
took  their  places,  each  according  to  the  bent  of  his  inclination. 
As  they  severally  pursued  their  objects  with  ardor,  a  vast  expan- 
!  sion  of  the  human  mind  speedily  followed.  This  displayed  itself 
in  a  variety  of  ways.  It  was  found  that  the  talents  for  great  stations 
did  not  differ  in  kind,  but  only  in  degree,  from  those  which  were 
necessary  for  the  proper  discharge  of  the  ordinary  business  of  civil 
society.  In  the  bustle  that  was  occasioned  by  the  war,  few  instances 
could  be  produced  of  any  persons  who  made  a  figure,  or  who  ren 
dered  essential  services,  but  from  among  those  who  had  given 
specimens  of  similar  talents  in  their  respective  professions.  Those 
who  from  indolence  or  dissipation,  had  been  of  little  service  to  the 
community  in  time  of  peace,  were  found  equally  unserviceable  in 
=war.  A  few  young  men  were  exceptions  to  this  general  rule. 
Some  of  these,  who  had  indulged  in  youthful  follies,  broke  off 
from  their  vicious  courses,  and  on  the  pressing  call  of  their  country 
became  useful  servants  of  the  public  ;  but  the  great  bulk  of  those, 
who  were  the  active  instruments  of  carrying  on  the  revolution, 
were  self-made,  industrious  men.  These  who  by  their  own  exer 
tions,  had  established,  or  laid  a  foundation  for  establishing  personal 
independence,  were  most  generally  trusted,  and  most  successfully 
employed  in  establishing  that  of  their  country.  In  these  times  of 
action,  classical  education  was  found  of  less  service  than  good 
natural  parts,  guided  by  common-sense  and  sound  judgment. 

Several  names  could  be  mentioned  of  individuals  who,  without 
the  knowledge  of  any  other  language  than  their  mother  tongue, 
wrote  not  only  accurately,  but  elegantly,  on  public  business.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  war  not  only  required,  but  created  talents.  Men 
whose  minds  were  warmed  with  the  love  of  liberty,  and  whose 
abilities  were  improved  by  daily  exercise,  and  sharpened  with  a 
laudable  ambition  to  serve  their  distressed  country,  spoke,  wrote, 


50  JAMES  MADISON 

and  acted,  with  an  energy  far  surpassing  all  expectations  which 
could  be  reasonably  founded  on  their  previous  acquirements. 

The  Americans  knew  but  little  of  one  another  previous  to  the 
revolution.  Trade  and  business  had  brought  the  inhabitants  of 
their  seaports  acquainted  with  each  other,  but  the  bulk  of  the 
people  in  the  interior  country  were  unacquainted  with  their 
fellow-citizens.  A  continental  army,  and  Congress  composed  of 
men  from  all  the  States,  by  freely  mixing  together,  were  assimi 
lated  into  one  mass.  Individuals  of  both,  mingling  with  the 
citizens,  disseminated  principles  of  union  among  them.  Local 
prejudices  abated.  By  frequent  collision  asperities  were  worn 
off,  and  a  foundation  was  laid  for  the  establishment  of  a  nation, 
out  of  discordant  materials.  Intermarriages  between  men  and 
women  of  different  States  were  much  more  common  than  before 
the  war,  and  became  an  additional  cement  to  the  union.  Unrea 
sonable  jealousies  had  existed  between  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Eastern  and  of  the  Southern  States;  but  on  becoming  better 
acquainted  with*  each  other,  these  in  a  great  measure  subsided. 
A  wiser  policy  prevailed.  Men  of  liberal  minds  led  the  way  in 
discouraging  local  distinctions,  and  the  great  body  of  the  people, 
as  soon  as  reason  got  the  better  of  prejudice,  found  that  their  best 
interests  would  be  most  effectually  promoted  by  such  practices  and 
sentiments  as  were  favorable  to  union. 


JAMES   MADISON 

[JAMES  MADISON  was  born  in  Port  Conway,  Virginia,  March  16,  1751,  and 
died  at  Montpellier,  Orange  County,  Virginia,  June  28,  1836.  The  son  of 
parents  able  to  give  him  a  good  education,  he  graduated  at  Princeton  in 
1772,  where  he  had  the  poet  Freneau  for  a  room-mate,  studied  law  and  history 
at  home  while  teaching  his  brothers  and  sisters,  took  part  early  in  the  Revolu 
tionary  movement,  was  a  member  of  the  state  convention  of  1776,  where  he 
helped  to  draft  the  new  constitution  for  Virginia,  and  was  elected  to  the  legis 
lature,  serving  only  one  term  because  he  would  not  condescend  to  solicit  votes 
in  an  improper  manner.  In  1780  he  was  sent  to  the  Continental  Congress, 
where  his  legal  and  historical  learning,  in  which  he  had  scarcely  a  rival,  and 
the  prudence  and  balance  of  temperament  which  characterized  him  through 
life,  caused  him  to  take  a  high  stand  as  a  legislator.  In  1784  he  was  again 


JAMES  MADISON  51 

elected  to  the  Virginia  legislature,  and  there  he  took  the  lead  in  the  successful 
fight  for  religious  liberty  which  did  much  completely  to  separate  church  and 
state  in  America.  His  next  great  service  was  in  connection  with  the  Annapolis 
Convention  of  1786,  which  led  to  the  calling  of  the  Philadelphia  Convention 
of  1787  that  furnished  a  constitution  to  the  country  then  verging  on  anarchy. 
In  the  Constitutional  Convention,  for  the  convening  of  which  he  was  perhaps 
more  responsible  than  any  other  man,  Madison  both  by  suggesting  plans  to 
others  and  by  defending  propositions  looking  to  the  establishment  of  an  ade 
quately  strong  government,  as  well  as  by  offering  compromises,  so  affected  the 
final  action  of  the  body  and  the  shape  of  the  instrument  it  adopted  that  he 
may  fairly  be  called  the  Father  of  the  Constitution.  Then  he  took  a  leading 
part  in  securing  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution,  not  only  by  his  labors  in 
the  Virginia  Convention,  but  also  by  joining  with  Hamilton  and  Jay  in  the 
production  of  "The  Federalist,"  the  famous  series  of  letters  defending  and  ex 
pounding  the  provisions  of  the  new  document.  These  letters  were  greatly  ap 
plauded  and  still  rank  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  contributions  to  political 
literature  made  by  America.  They  were  planned  by  Hamilton,  but  Madison's 
claim  to  credit  for  his  share  in  them  —  especially  if  we  assign  to  him,  as  seems 
proper,  those  letters  the  authorship  of  which  is  disputed — is  not  much  inferior  to 
that  of  the  more  brilliant  originator.  After  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution, 
Madison  was  elected  to  the  first  House  of  Representatives,  where  he  was 
easily  the  leading  member.  When  the  Federalist  and  Democratic-Republican 
parties  were  formed,  he  threw  in  his  lot  with  the  latter  and  thus  became  a 
colleague  of  Jefferson  and  an  opponent  of  his  former  colleague,  Hamilton. 
Jefferson  was  better  qualified  for  party  leadership  and  in  a  sense  took  prece 
dence  of  Madison  in  the  years  that  followed;  but  the  latter,  in  spite  of  a  short 
retirement  from  public  life,  was  too  valuable  a  statesman  to  be  in  any  way 
eclipsed.  In  1798  he  drew  up  the  famous  Virginia  Resolutions  against  the 
Alien  and  Sedition  laws.  In  1801  he  became  Secretary  of  State  under  Jeffer 
son  and  held  the  office  until  his  own  election  to  the  presidency.  Both  as  Sec 
retary  and  as  President  (1809-1817)  he  displayed  many  fine  qualities  of 
mind  and  character,  but  it  is  not  generally  thought  that  he  was  nearly  so  well 
qualified  for  executive  as  for  legislative  functions.  It  was  a  period  of  very 
tangled  foreign  relations ;  Madison  was  unable  to  cope  with  Napoleon  and 
was  finally  forced,  much  against  his  will,  into  war  with  Great  Britain.  In  1817, 
at  the  end  of  his  second  term,  he  retired  to  Montpellier,  where  he  passed  the 
rest  of  his  life  in  study,  looked  up  to  by  all  as  a  true  patriot  and  a  wise  states 
man.  His  writings  are  of  great  value  to  'students,  especially  in  all  matters 
relating  to  the  framing  of  the  Constitution.  His  rank  as  a  statesman  depends 
upon  the  emphasis  we  lay  upon  knowledge  and  prudence  and  the  power  to 
present  proper  lines  of  action  as  compared  with  the  ability  to  dominate  men 
and  parties,  to  work  the  machinery  of  government,  to  carry  out  a  definite 
policy.  No  more  conservative  and  deeply  learned  statesman  has  been  produced 
in  America,  but  Madison  cannot  be  numbered  among  our  great  executives. 


52  JAMES  MADISON 

See  "  James  Madison,  the  Constructive  Statesman,"  in  John  Fiske's  "  Essays 
Historical  and  Literary  "  (1902).  There  is  an  elaborate  "Life  and  Times  of 
James  Madison,"  by  William  C.  Rives,  Jr.  (3  vols.,  1859),  a  biography  in  the 
"American  Statesmen"  series  by  S.  H.  Gay  (1884),  and  a  recent  life  by  Gail- 
lard  Hunt  (1902).  An  edition  of  his  "Letters  and  Other  Writings,"  in  four 
volumes,  was  published  in  1865.  His  complete  works  are  being  edited  by 
Gaillard  Hunt,  and  five  volumes  have  already  appeared  (1900-1904).  The 
fifth  volume  covers  the  years  1787-1790.  There  is  also  a  "Memoirs  and 
Letters"  of  his  beautiful  and  sprightly  wife,  familiarly  known  as  "Dolly 
Madison"  (1887).] 


A  STANDING  ARMY  AND   THE   CONSTITUTION 

[FROM  "  THE  FEDERALIST,"  No.  XLI,  JANUARY  22, 1788.  EDITION  OF  1818.] 

How  could  a  readiness  for  war  in  time  of  peace  be  safely  pro 
hibited,  unless  we  could  prohibit  in  like  manner,  the  preparations 
and  establishments  of  every  hostile  nation  ?  The  means  of  security 
can  only  be  regulated  by  the  means  and  the  danger  of  attack. 
They  will  in  fact  be  ever  determined  by  these  rules,  and  by  no 
others.  It  is  in  vain  to  oppose  constitutional  barriers  to  the  im 
pulse  of  self-preservation.  It  is  worse  than  in  vain :  because  it 
plants  in  the  constitution  itself  necessary  usurpations  of  power, 
every  precedent  of  which  is  a  germ  of  unnecessary  and  multiplied 
repetitions.  If  one  nation  maintains  constantly  a  disciplined  army, 
ready  for  the  service  of  ambition  or  revenge,  it  obliges  the  most 
pacific  nations,  who  may  be  within  the  reach  of  its  enterprises,  to 
take  corresponding  precautions.  The  fifteenth  century  was  the 
unhappy  epoch  of  military  establishments  in  time  of  peace.  They 
were  introduced  by  Charles  VII.  of  France.  All  Europe  has 
followed,  or  been  forced  into,  the  example.  Had  the  example 
not  been  followed  by  other  nations,  all  Europe  must  long  ago  have 
worn  the  chains  of  a  universal  monarch.  Were  every  nation, 
except  France,  now  to  disband  its  peace  establishment,  the  same 
event  might  follow.  The  veteran  legions  of  Rome  were  an  over 
match  for  the  undisciplined  valor  of  all  other  nations,  and  rendered 
her  mistress  of  the  world. 

Not  less  true  is  it  that  the  liberties  of  Rome  proved  the  final 
victim  to  her  military  triumphs,  and  that  the  liberties  of  Europe, 


A   STANDING  ARMY  AND    THE    CONSTITUTION       53 

as  far  as  they  ever  existed,  have,  with  few  exceptions,  been  the 
price  of  her  military  establishments.  A  standing  force,  therefore, 
is  a  dangerous,  at  the  same  time  that  it  may  be  a  necessary,  provi 
sion.  On  the  smaller  scale,  it  has  its  inconveniences.  On  an  ex 
tensive  scale,  its  consequences  may  be  fatal.  On  any  scale,  it  is 
an  object  of  laudable  circumspection  and  precaution.  A  wise 
nation  will  combine  all  these  considerations ;  and  whilst  it  does 
not  rashly  preclude  itself  from  any  resource  which  may  become 
essential  to  its  safety,  will  exert  all  its  prudence  in  diminishing  both 
the  necessity  and  the  danger  of  resorting  to  one  which  may  be  in 
auspicious  to  its  liberties. 

The  clearest  marks  of  this  prudence  are  stamped  on  the  pro 
posed  constitution.  The  union  itself,  which  it  cements  and 
secures,  destroys  every  pretext  for  a  military  establishment  which 
could  be  dangerous.  America  united,  with  a  handful  of  troops, 
or  without  a  single  soldier,  exhibits  a  more  forbidding  posture  to 
foreign  ambition,  than  America  disunited,  with  a  hundred  thousand 
veterans  ready  for  combat.  It  was  remarked,  on  a  former  occa 
sion,  that  the  want  of  this  pretext  had  saved  the  liberties  of  one 
nation  in  Europe.  Being  rendered,  by  her  insular  situation  and 
her  maritime  resources,  impregnable  to  the  armies  of  her  neigh 
bors,  the  rulers  of  Great  Britain  have  never  been  able,  by  real  or 
artificial  dangers,  to  cheat  the  public  into  an  extensive  peace  es 
tablishment.  The  distance  of  the  United  States  from  the  powerful 
nations  of  the  world,  gives  them  the  same  happy  security.  A 
dangerous  establishment  can  never  be  necessary  or  plausible,  so 
long  as  they  continue  a  united  people.  But  let  it  never  for  a 
moment  be  forgotten  that  they  are  indebted  for  this  advantage  to 
their  union  alone.  The  moment  of  its  dissolution  will  be  the  date 
of  a  new  order  of  things.  The  fears  of  the  weaker,  or  the  ambition 
of  the  stronger,  States  or  confederacies,  will  set  the  same  example 
in  the  new  as  Charles  VII.  did  in  the  old  world.  The  example 
will  be  followed  here,  from  the  same  motives  which  produced  uni 
versal  imitation  there.  Instead  of  deriving  from  our  situation  the 
precious  advantage  which  Great  Britain  has  derived  from  hers,  the 
face  of  America  will  be  but  a  copy  of  that  of  the  continent  of 
Europe.  It  will  present  liberty  everywhere  crushed  between  stand- 


54  JAMES  MADISON 

ing  armies  and  perpetual  taxes.  The  fortunes  of  disunited  America 
will  be  even  more  disastrous  than  those  of  Europe.  The  sources 
of  evil  in  the  latter  are  confined  to  her  own  limits.  No  superior 
powers  of  another  quarter  of  the  globe  intrigue  among  her  rival 
nations,  inflame  their  mutual  animosities,  and  render  them  the 
instruments  of  foreign  ambition,  jealousy,  and  revenge.  In  Amer 
ica,  the  miseries  springing  from  her  internal  jealousies,  contentions, 
and  wars,  would  form  a  part  only  of  her  lot.  A  plentiful  addition 
of  evils  would  have  their  source  in  that  relation  in  which  Europe 
stands  to  this  quarter  of  the  earth,  and  which  no  other  quarter  of 
the  earth  bears  to  Europe. 

This  picture  of  the  consequences  of  disunion  cannot  be  too 
highly  colored,  or  too  often  exhibited.  Every  man  who  loves 
peace  ;  every  man  who  loves  his  country  ;  every  man  who  loves 
liberty,  ought  to  have  it  ever  before  his  eyes,  that  he  may  cherish 
in  his  heart  a  due  attachment  to  the  union  of  America,  and  be 
able  to  set  a  due  value  on  the  means  of  preserving  it. 

Next  to  the  effectual  establishment  of  the  union,  the  best  pos 
sible  precaution  against  danger  from  standing  armies  is  a  limita 
tion  of  the  term  for  which  revenue  may  be  appropriated  to  their 
support.  This  precaution  the  constitution  has  prudently  added. 
I  will  not  repeat  here  the  observations,  which  I  flatter  myself  have 
placed  this  subject  in  a  just  and  satisfactory  light.  But  it  may  not 
be  improper  to  take  notice  of  an  argument  against  this  part  of  the 
constitution,  which  has  been  drawn  from  the  policy  and  practice 
of  Great  Britain.  It  is  said  that  the  continuance  of  an  army  in 
that  kingdom  requires  an  annual  vote  of  the  legislature  :  whereas 
the  American  constitution  has  lengthened  this  critical  period  to 
two  years.  This  is  the  form  in  which  the  comparison  is  usually 
stated  to  the  public  :  but  is  it  a  just  form  ?  is  it  a  fair  compari 
son  ?  Does  the  British  constitution  restrain  the  parliamentary 
discretion  to  one  year  ?  Does  the  American  impose  on  the  con 
gress  appropriations  for  two  years  ?  On  the  contrary,  it  cannot  be 
unknown  to  the  authors  of  the  fallacy  themselves,  that  the  British 
constitution  fixes  no  limit  whatever  to  the  discretion  of  the  legisla 
ture,  and  that  the  American  ties  down  the  legislature  to  two  years, 
as  the  longest  admissible  term. 


A   STANDING  ARMY  AND    THE   CONSTITUTION        55 

Had  the  argument  from  the  British  example  been  truly  stated, 
it  would  have  stood  thus  :  the  term  for  which  supplies  may  be 
appropriated  to  the  army  establishment,  though  unlimited  by  the 
British  constitution,  has  nevertheless  in  practice  been  limited  by 
parliamentary  discretion  to  a  single  year.  Now  if  in  Great  Britain, 
—  where  the  House  of  Commons  is  elected  for  seven  years,  where 
so  great  a  proportion  of  the  members  are  elected  by  so  small  a 
proportion,  of  the  people,  where  the  electors  are  so  corrupted  by 
the  representatives,  and  the  representatives  so  corrupted  by  the 
crown,1  —  the  representative  body  can  possess  a  power  to  make 
appropriations  to  the  army  for  an  indefinite  term,  without  desiring, 
or  without  daring,  to  extend  the  term  beyond  a  single  year  ;  ought 
not  suspicion  herself  to  blush  in  pretending  that  the  representatives 
of  the  United  States,  elected  freely  by  the  whole  body  of  the  peo 
ple,  every  second  year,  cannot  be  safely  intrusted  with  a  discretion 
over  such  appropriations,  expressly  limited  to  the  short  period  of 
two  years  ? 

A  bad  cause  seldom  fails  to  betray  itself.  Of  this  truth,  the 
management  of  the  opposition  to  the  federal  government  is  an 
unvaried  exemplification.  But  among  all  the  blunders  which  have 
been  committed,  none  is  more  striking  than  the  attempt  to  enlist 
on  that  side,  the  prudent  jealousy  entertained  by  the  people,  of 
standing  armies.  The  attempt  has  awakened  fully  the  public 
attention  to  that  important  subject  ;  and  has  led  to  investigations 
which  must  terminate  in  a  thorough  and  universal  conviction,  not 
only  that  the  constitution  has  provided  the  most  effectual  guards 
against  danger  from  that  quarter,  but  that  nothing  short  of  a  con 
stitution  fully  adequate  to  the  national  defence,  and  the  preserva 
tion  of  the  union,  can  save  America  from  as  many  standing  armies 
as  it  may  be  split  into  states  or  confederacies  ;  and  from  such  a 
progressive  augmentation  of  these  establishments  in  each,  as  will 
render  them  as  burthensome  to  the  properties,  and  ominous  to  the 
liberties  of  the  people,  as  any  establishment  that  can  become 
necessary,  under  a  united  and  efficient  government,  must  be 
tolerable  to  the  former  and  safe  to  the  latter. 

1  It  may  be  worth  while  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  was  written  long 
before  the  Reform  Bill. 


56  MRS.  ELIZA    WILKINSON 


MRS.    ELIZA   WILKINSON 

[PRACTICALLY  no  information  about  Mrs.  Wilkinson  is  given  us  by  the  lady 
who  edited  her  letters  in  1839.  We  are  told  that  she  was  a  young  and  beauti 
ful  widow,  and  that  the  letters  were  copied  by  her  in  a  clear,  feminine  hand 
into  a  "  blank  quarto  book."  The  twelve  letters  written  toward  the  close  of 
the  Revolution  give  us  a  vivid  picture  of  the  experiences  and  feelings  of  a 
patriotic  woman  during  the  British  occupation  of  Charleston.  We  would 
willingly  know  more  of  the  writer;  but  her  day  was  not  that  of  publicity,  and 
it  has  proved  impossible  to  supplement  the  meagre  statements  of  Mrs.  Caroline 
Gilman  (1794-1888),  who  first  rescued  Mrs.  Wilkinson  from  oblivion.  The 
editor  herself,  who  was  Boston  born,  but  with  her  husband,  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Gilman,  a  Unitarian  clergyman,  resided  long  in  Charleston,  was  a  very  well- 
known  writer  in  her  day.  She  published  a  magazine  for  children,  wrote  poems 
and  stories,  and  was  the  author  of  the  once  popular  "  Recollections  of  a 
Southern  Matron"  (1836).] 


A   SPRIGHTLY  AND   PATRIOTIC   CAROLINA  DAME1 

[FROM  "LETTERS  OF  ELIZA  WILKINSON,  DURING  THE  INVASION  AND 
POSSESSION  OF  CHARLESTOWN,  SOUTH  CAROLINA,  BY  THE  BRITISH  IN 
THE  REVOLUTIONARY  WAR.  ARRANGED  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  MANU 
SCRIPTS  BY  CAROLINE  GILMAN,"  NEW  YORK,  1839.] 

YONGE'S  ISLAND,  July  I4th  [1781]. 

WELL,  I  have  been  to  town,  and  seen  all  my  friends  and  quarrelled 
with  my  enemies.  I  went  on  board  the  prison  ship,  too,  and 
drank  coffee  with  the  prisoners ;  the  dear  fellows  were  in  high 
spirits,  and  expecting  to  be  speedily  exchanged;  indeed,  they 
were  so  before  I  left  town.  I  saw  the  last  vessel  sail,  and  a 
number  of  ladies  with  them  of  our  acquaintance,  who  have  sailed 
from  their  native  land.  The  day  that  the  last  vessel  sailed,  some 
^ British  officers  came  to  the  house  where  I  staid.  I  was  sitting 
very  melancholy,  and  did  not  alter  my  position  on  their  entrance. 

1  The  letter  here  given  is  the  eleventh.  There  are  said  to  be  other  letters  extant 
that  have  never  been  published. 


A  SPRIGHTLY  AND  PATRIOTIC  CAROLINA  DAME       $f 

They  sat  for  some  time;  at  length  they  broke  silence  with  — 
"  You  seem  melancholy,  Madam  !  "  "I  am  so,  Sir ;  I  am  think 
ing  how  suddenly  I  am  deprived  of  my  friends,  and  left  almost 
alone  in  the  midst  of — " 

"  Do  not  say  enemies,  Madam,"  (interrupting  me,)  —  "  there  is 
not  one  in  this  garrison  but  would  protect  and  serve  you  to  the 
utmost  of  his  power,  as  well  as  those  whose  absence  you  lament." 

"  I  have  no  further  business  in  this  garrison,  Sir ;  those  on 
whose  account  I  came  down  are  now  gone,  and  I  shall  very 
shortly  return  to  the  country ;  or  you  may  send  me  off,  too  —  will 
you?" 

"  No,  no,  Madam ;  I  will  enter  a  caveat  against  that  —  I  am 
determined  to  convert  you." 

"  That  you  never  shall,  for  I  am  determined  not  to  be  converted 
by  you." 

"  Why,  then,  you  shall  convert  me." 

"I  shall  not  attempt  it,  Sir"  —  and  I  turned  about,  and  spoke 
to  a  lady  by  me.  Some  time  after  I  was  asked  to  play  the  guitar, 
—  "I  cannot  play,  I  am  very  dull." 

"  How  long  do  you  intend  to  continue  so,  Mrs.  Wilkinson?" 

"  Until  my  countrymen  return,  Sir  ! " 

"  Return  as  what,  Madam  ?  — prisoners  or  subjects  ?  " 

"  As  conquerors  /  Sir." 

He  affected  a  laugh.     "  You  will  never  see  that,  Madam." 

"  I  live  in  hopes,  Sir,  of  seeing  the  thirteen  stripes  hoisted,  once 
more  hoisted,  on  the  bastions  of  this  garrison." 

"  Do  not  hope  so  ;  but  come,  give  us  a  tune  on  the  guitar." 

"  I  can  play  nothing  but  rebel  songs." 

"  Well,  let  us  have  one  of  them." 

"  Not  to-day  —  I  cannot  play  —  I  will  not  play ;  besides,  I  sup 
pose  I  should  be  put  into  the  Provost  for  such  a  heinous  crime." 

"  Not  for  the  world,  Madam ;  you  never  should  be  put  there." 

"  Aye,  aye,  so  you  say ;  but  I  see  no  respect  shown ; "  and, 
saying  this,  I  went  mto  the  chamber,  and  he  down  stairs. 

I  have  often  wondered,  since,  I  was  not  packed  off  too,  for  I 
was  very  saucy,  and  never  disguised  my  sentiments. 

l  A  temporary  military  prison. 


58  MRS.   ELIZA    WILKINSON 

One  day  Kitty  and  I  were  going  to  take  a  walk  on  the  Bay 
to  get  something  we  wanted.  Just  as  we  had  got  our  hats  on, 
up  ran  one  of  the  Billets1  into  the  dining-room,  where  we 
were,  — 

"  Your  servant,  ladies,"  — 

"  Your  servant,  Sir." 

"  Going  out,  ladies  ?  " 

"  Only  to  take  a  little  walk." 

He  immediately  turned  about,  and  ran  down  stairs,  I  guessed 
for  what. 

"  Kitty,  Kitty,  let  us  hurry  off,  child  ;  he  is  gone  for  his  hat  and 
sword  as  sure  as  you  are  alive,  and  means  to  accompany  us."  We 
immediately  caught  up  our  silk  gowns  to  keep  them  from  rustling, 
and  flew  down  stairs  as  light  as  we  could,  to  avoid  being  heard. 
Out  of  the  street  door  we  went,  and  I  believe  ran  near  two  hun 
dred  yards,  and  then  walked  very  fast.  Looking  behind,  we  saw 
him  at  some  distance,  walking  at  a  great  rate.  We  hurried  down 
another  street,  and  went  in  a  half-run  until  we  came  to  Bedon's 
Alley,  and,  turning  that,  we  walked  on  leisurely  to  rest  ourselves. 
It  was  near  an  hour  after,  being  in  a  store  in  Broad-Street,  that 
we  saw  him  pass,  in  company  with  five  or  six  other  officers,  with 
one  of  whom  he  was  hooking-arms.  —  Kitty  spied  him  out,  and, 
pointing  to  him  and  looking  at  me,  we  ran  behind  the  door  to 
hide  ourselves ;  but  he  got  a  glimpse  of  us  before  we  could  do 
so,  and  quitting  his  companions,  came  immediately  into  the 
store,  and  seemed  quite  transported  to  find  us.  Foolish  fellow  ! 
I  could  not  help  pitying  him  for  his  good-nature,  and  behaving 
mighty  civil  to  him.  Had  he  been  one  of  your  impudent,  bluster 
ing  red-coats,  who  think  nothing  bad  enough  they  can  say  of  the 
rebels,  I  should  have  discarded  him  that  moment,  and  driven  him 
from  my  presence  ;  but  he  accosted  us  so  smilingly,  and  with  such 
an  air  of  diffidence 2  that  I  could  not  find  in  my  heart  one  spark 
of  ill-nature  towards  him ;  so  I  smiled  too,  and  away  we  walked. 
He  offered  me  his  hand,  or  arm  rather,  to  lean  on. 

"  Excuse  me,  Sir,"  said  I ;  "  I  will  support  myself,  if  you  please." 

1 1.e.  one  of  the  officers  stationed  in  the  house. 

2  The  proof-reading  was  bad  here  in  the  original  edition. 


A  SPRIGHTLY  AND  PATRIOTIC  CAROLINA  DAME       59 

"  No,  Madam,  the  pavements  are  very  uneven  —  you  may  get  a 
fall ;  do  accept  my  arm." 

"  Pardon  me,  I  cannot." 

"  Come,  you  do  not  know  what  your  condescension  may  do  — 
I  will  turn  rebel !  " 

"  Will  you  ?  "  said  I,  laughing,  —  "  turn  rebel  first,  and  then  offer 
your  arm." 

We  stopped  in  another  store,  where  were  several  British 
officers ;  after  asking  for  articles  which  I  wanted,  I  saw  a  broad 
roll  of  ribbon,  which  appeared  to  be  of  black  and  white 
stripes. 

"  Go,"  said  I  to  the  officer  that  was  with  us,  "  and  reckon  the 
stripes  of  that  ribbon ;  see  if  they  are  thirteen ! "  (with  an 
emphasis  I  spoke  the  word  —  and  he  went  too  !) 

"  Yes,  they  are  thirteen,  upon  my  word,  Madam." 

"  Do  hand  it  me."  He  did  so  ;  I  took  it,  and  found  that  it  was 
narrow  black  ribbon,  carefully  wound  round  a  broad  white.  I  re 
turned  it  to  its  place  on  the  shelf. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  merchant,  "  you  can  buy  the  black  and 
white,  too,  and  tack  them  in  stripes." 

"  By  no  means,  Sir  ;  I  would  not  have  them  slightly  tacked,  but 
firmly  united"  The  above-mentioned  officers  sat  on  the  counter 
kicking  their  heels ;  —  how  they  gaped  at  me  when  I  said  this  ! 
but  the  merchant  laughed  heartily. 

Well,  I  have  composed  a  long  letter  out  of  nothing ;  pardon 
the  subject.  I  am  on  this  lonely  island,  and  have  nothing  to 
inspire  my  pen.  Let  me  hear  from  you,  but  I  would  rather  see 
you,  if  you  would  think  it  worth  while  to  favor  me  with  a  visit. 
Come,  my  dear,  I  have  a  thousand  little  things  to  whisper  in 
your  ear,  of  who,  and  what,  and  how.  If  you  have  but  the  tenth 
part  of  that  curiosity  ascribed  to  your  sex,  you  will  fly  to  Yonge's 
Island,  to  enjoy  these  promised  tete-a-tetes.1  —  Not  one  word 
more. 

ELIZA  W. 

1  This  letter  has  been  printed  as  Mrs.  Oilman  gave  it,  with  no  attempt  at  moderni 
zation.  An  equally  excessive  use  of  italics  may  be  found  in  Southern  letters  written 
after  the  Civil  War. 


60  ST.   GEORGE    TUCKER 


ST.   GEORGE  TUCKER 

[THE  Tuckers  of  Virginia  and  South  Carolina  came  to  those  colonies  from 
Bermuda.  St.  George  Tucker  was  born  on  the  island,  July  lo,  1752,  and  died  in 
Nelson  County,  Virginia,  November  10,  1828.  At  the  age  of  nineteen  he  went 
to  Williamsburg  to  complete  his  education  at  the  college  of  William  and  Mary, 
where  he  remained  a  year.  He  studied  law  and  practised  awhile  in  Vir 
ginia,  then  went  back  to  Bermuda,  but  in  1776  returned  to  Virginia  to  fight 
for  the  Revolutionary  cause.  In  1778  he  married  the  widow  Frances  Bland 
Randolph,  thus  becoming  the  stepfather  of  the  famous  John  Randolph  of 
Roanoke  (q.v.*).  After  Yorktown  he  practised  law  once  more,  was  a  delegate 
to  the  Annapolis  Convention  of  1786,  was  made  a  judge  of  the  general  court 
(1787-1804),  and,  in  1790,  professor  of  law  in  his  alma  mater.  This  posi 
tion  he  filled  with  great  distinction,  as  his  long-appreciated  edition  of  Black- 
stone's  "Commentaries"  (1803)  abundantly  proves.  In  1796  he  published 
"A  Dissertation  on  Slavery:  with  a  Proposal  for  the  Gradual  Abolition 
of  it  in  the  State  of  Virginia."  This  was  reprinted  in  New  York  in  1861. 
He  also  published  a  volume  of  political  satires,  now,  forgotten,  composed  some 
dramas,  which  seem  never  to  have  been  printed,  and  wrote  fugitive  poems, 
one  of  which  "  Resignation,"  or  "  Days  of  my  Youth,"  here  given,  was  a 
favorite  with  John  Adams  and,  on  account  of  its  emotional  appeal  rather  than 
of  its  poetic  style,  has  found  a  place  in  most  American  anthologies.  In  1804 
he  was  put  at  the  head  of  the  state  court  of  appeals.  Some  years  later  he 
resigned  through  ill  health,  but  in  1813  he  accepted  a  federal  district  judgeship. 
His  legal  abilities  were  inherited  by  two  sons,  Henry  St.  George  Tucker  (i  780- 
1848),  congressman,  judge,  professor  of  law,  and  legal  writer,  and  Nathaniel 
Beverley  Tucker  (g.v.},  tne  well-known  author  of  "The  Partisan  Leader." 
Several  sons  of  Henry  St.  George  distinguished  themselves,  especially  the  late 
John  Randolph  Tucker,  statesman  and  expounder  of  the  Constitution,  and  St. 
George  Tucker,  author  of"  Hansford,  A  Tale  of  Bacon's  Rebellion  "  (1853). 
The  well-known  historian,  philosopher,  and  miscellaneous  writer,  Professor 
George  Tucker  of  the  University  of  Virginia  (1775-1861),  was  a  connection  of 
this  family,  which  maintains  its  distinction  in  Virginia  at  the  present  day.] 

RESIGNATION 

DAYS  of  my  youth, 

Ye  have  glided  away ; 
Hairs  of  my  youth, 

Ye  are  frosted  and  gray ; 


RESIGNA  TION  6  r 

Eyes  of  my  youth, 

Your  keen  sight  is  no  more ; 
Cheeks  of  my  youth, 

Ye  are  furrowed  all  o'er ; 
Strength  of  my  youth, 

All  your  vigor  is  gone  ; 
Thoughts  of  my  youth, 

Your  gay  visions  are  flown. 

Days  of  my  youth, 

I  wish  not  your  recall ; 
Hairs  of  my  youth, 

I'm  content  ye  should  fall ; 
Eyes  of  my  youth, 

You  much  evil  have  seen ; 
Cheeks  of  my  youth, 

Bathed  in  tears  have  you  been ; 
Thoughts  of  my  youth, 

You  have  led  me  astray ; 
Strength  of  my  youth, 

Why  lament  your  decay? 

Days  of  my  age, 

Ye  will  shortly  be  past ; 
Pains  of  my  age, 

Yet  awhile  ye  can  last ; 
Joys  of  my  age, 

In  true  wisdom  delight; 
Eyes  of  my  age, 

Be  religion  your  light ; 
Thoughts  of  my  age, 

Dread  ye  not  the  cold  sod ; 
Hopes  of  my  age, 

Be  ye  fixed  on  your  God.1 

1  That  St.  George  Tucker  was  a  good  letter  writer  is  proved  by  one  or  two  letters 
from  him  to  be  found  in  the  "  Bland  Papers  " —  a  selection  made  from  the  manu 
scripts  of  a  relative  of  his  wife,  Colonel  Theodorick  Bland,  Jr.,  of  Prince  George 
County,  Virginia.  This  correspondence,  which  begins  as  early  as  1744-1745  but  is 


62  ST.    GEORGE    TUCKER 

chiefly  concerned  with  the  Revolution  in  Virginia  and  contains  letters  from  such 
distinguished  men  as  Washington,  Patrick  Henry,  Jefferson,  and  Edmund 
Randolph,  was  edited  in  two  volumes  (1840  and  1844)  by  Charles  Campbell,  the 
historian  of  Virginia.  It  is  worth  while  to  mention  also  that  Judge  Tucker  is  said 
to  have  contributed  a  few  stanzas  to  one  of  the  most  famous  pieces  of  social  verse 
ever  written  in  the  South.  This  is  "  The  Belles  of  Williamsburg,"  a  poem  of  sixteen 
stanzas  celebrating  the  looks  and  accomplishments  of  several  young  ladies  of  the 
old  capital  of  Virginia,  written  by  Dr.  James  McClurg  ( 1747-1825) .  This  gentleman 
was  a  college  mate  of  Jefferson,  studied  abroad,  and  became  a  distinguished 
physician  in  W\|liamsburg  and  Richmond.  He  was  a  noted  writer  on  medical 
topics  and,  as  his  best-known  poem  and  its  sequel  prove,  an  accomplished  writer 
of  society  verse  in  the  manner  of  Suckling  and  Cowley.  His  poem  is  quoted  in 
John  Esten  Cooke's  (^.^.)  "  Virginia  Comedians,"  and  he  figures  in  the  same  writer's 
"  Youth  of  Jefferson."  The  poem  and  its  sequel  may  also  be  found  in  Duyckinck's 
"  Cyclopaedia  of  American  Literature."  For  a  sketch  of  Tucker  and  extracts  from 
his  letters  to  his  wife,  see  the  two  articles  contributed  by  C.  W.  Coleman,  Jr.,  to  The 
Magazine  of  American  History,  Vol.  VII  (1881).  Sketches  of  Tucker  and  other 
old-time  Virginia  lawyers  will  also  be  found  in  The  Green  Bag,  Vol.  X.  It  should 
be  noted  that  the  various  accounts  of  Tucker  show  many  small  discrepancies  in  the 
dates  they  furnish. 


SECOND  PERIOD 

THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH 
1790-1865 


INTRODUCTION 

DURING  the  upwards  of  seventy-five  years  that  elapsed  between 
the  inauguration  of  Washington  and  the  assassination  of  Lincoln, 
American  literature  as  a  whole  emerged  from  What  it  is  too  much  of 
a  compliment  to  call  its  dawn  and  passed  into  what  is  regarded  as 
its  period  of  meridian  splendor.  Such  splendor  as  it  had,  how 
ever,  was  mainly  due  to  the  writings  of  gifted  New  Englanders 
during  what  is  known  as  the  Transcendentalist  Period  (1830^1850) 
and  the  years  immediately  following.  Take  from  American  litera 
ture  the  writings  of  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  Longfellow,  Whittier, 
Holmes,  Thoreau,  Lowell,  and  the  great  historians,  Prescott, 
Motley,  and  Parkman,  to  say  nothing  of  Alcott,  Margaret  Fuller, 
Mrs.  Stowe,  and  a  large  number  of  minor  writers,  and  what  is  left 
of  our  ante  bellum  literature  seems  at  first  thought  comparatively 
negligible.  It  is  not  negligible,  of  course,  for  the  work  of  Irving, 
Cooper,  Bryant  (though  he  was  really  a  New  Englander),  Poe,  and 
Whitman,  to  say  nothing  of  that  of  Willis  (another  New  Englander 
by  birth),  Kennedy,  Simms,  and  many  others,  was  important  in 
its  day  and  fairly  holds  its  own  in  ours.  Indeed,  Poe  and  Whit 
man  are  to  many  persons  the  most  significant  writers  in  the  entire 
range  of  our  literature. 

Of  all  the  names  given  above  only  three,  those  of  Poe,  Kennedy, 
and  Simms,  belong  to  the  South,  and  of  these,  only  that  of  Poe  is  of 
great  consequence  to  the  reader  of  to-day.  The  South  which  had 
done  so  much  to  establish  American  independence,  which  had 
given  Washington,  and  Jefferson,  and  Madison,  and  Monroe,  and 
Marshall  to  the  Union,  —  a  list  which  does  not  exhaust  the  dis 
tinguished  statesmen  furnished  by  a  single  state,  —  scarcely  gave 
to  the  world  before  the  close  of  the  Civil  War  half  a  dozen  writers 
whose  names  really  mean  anything  to  the  present  generation. 
The  race  of  statesmen  did  not  cease,  —  as  the  names  of  Calhoun, 
F  65 


66  INTRODUCTION 

Hayne,  Macon,  Jackson,  Clay,  Toombs,  Stephens,  Yancey,  and 
Jefferson  Davis  suffice  to  show,  —  although  it  will  be  observed 
that  the  claim  Virginia  can  make  to  pride  in  this  list  is  a  very 
slight  one.  When  the  Civil  War  came,  the  race  of  great  soldiers 
—  in  which  Virginia  can  once  more  find  occasion  for  just  pride,  — 
Lee,  "Stonewall"  Jackson,  the  two  Johnstons,  Stuart,  Forrest, 
Longstreet,  and  many  another  —  showed  that  the  essential  vitality 
of  the  Southern  people  had  not  only  not  decayed  since  the  Revo 
lution,  but  in  some  respects  had  been  strengthened.  Rich  and 
poor  alike  joined  in  maintaining  for  four  years  what  is  perhaps  the 
most  heroic  struggle  in  history.  Yet  the  people  who  produced 
these  statesmen  and  soldiers,  who  were  unexcelled  in  those  private 
virtues  and  manners  which  in  the  old  adage  "  maketh  man,"  made 
in  seventy-five  years  so  small  a  contribution  to  the  literature  and 
art  and  science  and  industrial  improvement  of  the  world,  that  they 
are  often  represented,  erroneously,  as  exponents  of  a  lower  order 
of  civilization  than  was  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  America. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  it  was  the  presence  of  domestic  slavery 
that  gave  a  semblance  of  truth  to  this  view  of  the  Southern  people. 
This  inherited  institution  did  indeed  retard  the  South  industrially 
and  affect  its  mental  development  detrimentally  in  many  ways. 
It  sharpened  the  minds  of  Southern  statesmen,  but  it  kept  them 
and  the  people  they  represented  harping  upon  one  topic,  or,  to 
put  it  more  accurately,  the  defence  they  naturally  felt  called  upon 
to  make  of  what  they  regarded  as  property  took  precedence,  after 
1820,  of  every  other  public  interest,  and  the  inevitable  result  was  a 
narrowing  and  hardening  of  the  public  mind  and  an  inflaming  of 
the  public  heart.  Such  an  epoch  of  strife  could  not  be  propitious 
to  the  development  of  creative  literature,  but  that  life  in  the  Old 
South  was  propitious  to  the  development  of  character  among  the 
favored  classes  is  equally  obvious.  No  nobler  man  than  Robert  E. 
Lee  can  be  named  in  American  history,  and  the  characteristic 
virtues  seen  at  their  height  in  Lee  were  abundantly  illustrated  by 
the  men  and  women  of  his  social  class.  In  other  words,  the  Old 
South  was  dominated  by  an  aristocracy  marked  by  many  fine 
qualities,  but  resting  upon  slavery  and  the  ownership  of  land  as 
a  basis  and  thus  out  of  touch,  not  merely  with  the  democracy  of 


INTR  OD  UCTION  6/ 

the  rest  of  America,  but  with  the  mixed  civilization  of  Europe. 
There  was,  it  is  true,  a  democracy  in  the  South,  —  especially  in 
the  mountain  regions,  and  more  particularly  in  the  states  of  North 
Carolina  and  Georgia,  —  but  it  was  the  aristocracy  that  conducted 
the  general  political  policy  of  the  section  and  that  represented  it 
before  the  world.  We  need  not  dwell  on  the  condition  of  the 
non-slaveholding  whites  and  of  the  negroes,  for  it  is  now  seen  at 
a  glance  that  the  social  structure  of  the  South  was  an  anachronism 
and  that  it  would  probably  have  been  ended  through  war  even  if 
there  had  been  no  written  constitution  to  afford  points  of  con 
tended  interpretation.  It  is  equally  plain  that  the  failure  of  the 
South  to  contribute  greatly  to  literature,  art,  and  science  was  due 
to  no  mental  or  spiritual  defects  on  the  part  of  the  Southern 
people,  but  to  conditions  inseparable  from  a  rural,  aristocratic 
social  system.  Country  gentlemen  have  in  no  age  or  land  done 
much  to  aid  the  artistic  and  scientific  development  of  the  world, 
and  the  Southern  planters  were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  They 
had  no  great  cities  to  attract  and  develop  youths  of  promise  ;  they 
were  far  removed  from  printers  and  publishers,  and  led  a  life  not 
conducive  to  mental  exertion ;  they  had  inherited  in  many  cases  a 
prejudice  against  writing  for  money  as  a  profession  for  gentlemen. 
Hence  it  is  no  wonder  that  while  Richmond  and  Charleston  and 
New  Orleans  contained  not  a  few  citizens  of  culture,  some  of  whom 
endeavored  to  write  books  and  to  publish  magazines,  no  such 
literary  development  was  possible  in  any  of  them  as  was  seen  in 
Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia.  Even  the  New  South,  with 
its  greater  activity  and  success  in  literature,  has  as  yet  no  literary 
centre,  and  much  the  same  condition  of  affairs  prevails  in  the 
West. 

But  despite  all  obstacles  not  a  few  men  and  women  in  the  ante 
bellum  South  devoted  themselves  to  literature,  and  when  one  makes 
a  close  study  of  the  work  they  did,  one  is  on  the  whole  rather  sur 
prised  to  find  how  much  success  was  achieved  by  them.  At  the 
opening  of  the  period  there  is  little  to  chronicle  save  the  writings 
of  public  men,  which,  though  excellent  in  their  way,  did  not  often 
display  the  literary  quality  visible  in  the  speeches  of  John  Randolph 
of  Roanoke.  With  Wirt  and  the  cultured  group  of  lawyers  who 


68  INTRODUCTION 

were  his  friends  in  Richmond,  such  as  John  Wickham  and  Francis 
Gilmer,  we  have  the  first  literary  coterie  of  any  importance.  But 
to-day  "  The  Letters  of  the  British  Spy  "  and  "  The  Old  Bachelor  " 
seem  very  old-fashioned,  and  the  "  Life  of  Patrick  Henry,"  though 
still  read,  is  almost  worthless  as  biography.  Wirt  was  a  genial, 
cultivated,  and  able  man,  but  as  a  writer  he  was  little  more  than 
an  amateur.  Amateurish  also  were  the  early  Southern  poets,  Shaw 
and  Pinkney  and  Key  in  Maryland,  Dabney  and  Maxwell  and 
Munford  in  Virginia,  Crafts  and  Holland  and  their  compeers  in 
South  Carolina.  If  some  of  them,  especially  Pinkney,  had  been 
granted  longer  lives  and  a  more  propitious  environment,  they 
might  have  left  us  more  than  an  occasional  poem  of  promise  or 
excellence  ;  but  this  could  not  be,  and  it  was  not  long  before  able 
Southerners  like  Hugh  S.  Legare"  were  pointing  out  the  limitations 
of  their  predecessors  like  Crafts.  Late  in  the  twenties  and  early 
in  the  thirties  genuine  men  of  letters  were  produced.  Poe  practi 
cally  began  his  career  in  Baltimore,  where  Kennedy,1  who  con 
tinued  the  Wirt  tradition  of  the  literary  lawyer,  gave  him  assistance. 
Through  Kennedy,  Poe  formed  his  famous  connection  with  The 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  which  Thomas  W.  White  had  estab 
lished  in  Richmond  under  the  editorship  of  Mr.  James  E.  Heath, 
afterward  the  author  of  a  novel,  "  Edgehill."  Poe  took  the  jour 
nal  from  an  amateur,  and  most  (of  the  contributors  on  whom  he 
relied  were  amateurs  also,  but  he  managed  it  as  a  professional,  and 
gave  it  an  impetus  that  enabled  it  to  survive  into  the  Civil  War.2 
Under  the  poet  John  R.  Thompson,  it  had,  during  the  fifties,  a 
sort  of  Indian  summer  of  success,  numbering  among  its  contribu 
tors  not  only  young  Southerners  like  John  Esten  Cooke  and  Tim- 
rod  and  Paul  Hayne,  but  Northern  writers  like  Donald  G.  Mitchell. 
Meanwhile  Charleston  had  produced  in  William  Gilmore  Simms 
the  first  important  Southern  novelist  and  the  most  indefatigable  of 
Southern  editors.  Before  Simms  made  himself  famous,  The  South 
ern  Review  (1828-1832)  had  shown  what  a  creditable  quarterly 

1  Among  Baltimore  writers  the  poet  and  critic  George  Henry  Calvert  and  Brantz 
Mayer  and  S.  Teakle  Wallis  deserve  special  mention. 

2  The  dates  of  the  Messenger  are  1834-1864.    A  history  of  the  periodical  by  Dr. 
Benjamin  Blake   Minor,  who  was  editor  between  1843  and  1847,  has  just  been 
published. 


INTRODUCTION  69 

could  be  conducted  in  the  South.  In  its  pages  Hugh  S.  Legare, 
Stephen  Elliott,  Thomas  Smith  Grimk£,  and  others  of  their  cultured 
group  found  an  organ  for  their  thought.  After  Legare"  aban 
doned  literature,  Simms  labored  zealously  in  the  cause,  and  by  his 
series  of  Revolutionary  and  Border  romances  and  by  his  editor 
ship  of  The  Southern  Quarterly  Review?  and  above  all  by  his 
hearty  sympathy  with  all  Southern  aspirants  for  literary  fame,  he 
performed  a  work  which  it  would  be  ungrateful  for  Southerners, 
if  not  for  Americans,  ever  to  forget.  Just  before  the  Civil  War, 
young  men  who  formed  part  of  his  coterie  in  Charleston,  and  had 
had  advantages  of  education  denied  to  him,  collaborated  in  Rus 
sell"1  s  •  Magazine  (1857-1860)  and  made  it  a  credit,  if  a  short-lived 
one,  to  its  city  and  section.  Two  of  these  young  men  were  the 
poets  Timrod  and  Hayne,  whose  memories  are  cherished  by  the 
Southern  people,  and  whose  worth  as  poets  is  being  slowly  recog 
nized  by  the  country  at  large. 

Meanwhile  the  other  Southern  states  had  produced  writers  who 
could  not  be  wholly  discouraged,  even  by  the  most  depressing  con 
ditions.  They  were  in  many  cases  historians  zealous  for  the  fame 
of  their  respective  commonwealths.  Charles  Campbell  in  Virginia 
(1807-1876)  and  Albert  James  Pickett  (1810-1858)  in  Alabama 
may  serve  as  examples.  Professor  George  Tucker  in  Virginia  and 
Judge  Gayarre"  in  Louisiana  were  historians  of  broader  sweep  and 
accomplished  writers  in  other  fields.2  Publicists  and  orators  were, 
of  course,  produced  in  abundance,  Calhoun  easily  taking  the  lead  as 
a  subtle  expounder  of  the  rights  of  minorities.  The  fame  of  these 

1  The  dates  of  the  Review  are  1842-1856.     Simms  took  charge  in  1849. 

2  Writers  of  travels  ought  not  to  be  overlooked.      Probably  the  best-known 
Southern  writer  of  this  type  was  the  celebrated  Mme.  Octavia  Walton  Le  Vert  (1810- 
1877),  who  was  born  in  Georgia,  but  spent  much  of  her  life  in  Mobile.    She  was 
highly  educated  and  brilliant,  saw  something  of  Washington  society,  and  of  Clay, 
Webster,  and  Calhoun  ;  married  Dr.  Henry  S.  Le  Vert,  of  Mobile,  and  became  a 
noted  figure  in  that  city ;  travelled  in  Europe  in  the  fifties  and  met  many  distin 
guished  people ;  and,  although  opposed  to  secession,  was  active  in  her  good  services 
to  soldiers  during  the  Civil  War.    Her  ebullient  "  Souvenirs  of  Travel,"  which  she  is 
said  to  have  written  at  the  suggestion  of  Lamartine,  were  issued  in  two  volumes  in 
1857.    They  still  retain  some  interest,  though  not  nearly  so  much  as  the  famous  book 
which  the  talented  Englishwoman,  Fanny  Kemble  (Mrs.  Butler) ,  wrote  about  the 
South,  — "Journal  of  a  Residence  on  a  Georgia  Plantation"  (1863). 


7O  INTR  OD  UC  TION 

old-time  speakers  —  Hayne,  Toombs,  Stephens,  Yancey,  Sergeant 
S.  Prentiss 1  (of  Northern  birth)  —  is  still  fresh,  but  rather  through 
tradition  than  through  much  reading  of  such  of  their  speeches  as 
are  in  print.  There  was  also  a  small  group  of  sociologists  who 
wrote  some  very  queer  books,2  a  larger  group  of  defenders  of  slav 
ery,  among  whom  were  to  be  found  very  able  advocates  like  Pro 
fessor  Albert  Taylor  Bledsoe  (1809-1877),  and  a  commercial  and 
industrial  organ,  the  well-known  De  Bow's  Review  of  New  Orleans.3 

More  important  to  the  literary  student  are  minor  poets  like 
Philip  Cooke  of  Virginia  and  James  Barren  Hope  of  the  same 
state,  Richard  Henry  Wilde,  who  is  best  credited  to  Georgia,  A.  B. 
Meek  of  Alabama,  Albert  Pike,  born  in  Massachusetts  but  long 
resident  in  Arkansas,  and  quite  a  list  of  others,  whose  names  will 
suggest  themselves  to  persons  familiar  with  Southern  literature.  And 
more  important  than  these  are  the  Southwestern  and  the  Georgia 
humorists,  who  not  only  influenced  the  development  of  our  national 
humor,  but  also  pointed  out  the  way  to  those  writers  of  local  real 
istic  fiction  who  have 'contributed  so  much  to  the  literary  reputa 
tion  of  the  New  South.  They  begin  with  Judge  Longstreet  and 
William  Tappan  Thompson  in  Georgia  and  with  Davy  Crockett 
in  Tennessee,  culminate  in  Judge  Baldwin  the  genial  author  of  the 
"  Flush  Times,"  and  end  for  our  period  at  least  with  the  amusing 
yarns  of  "Sut  Lovengood  "  (George  Washington  Harris,  1814- 
1868,  an  adopted  citizen  of  Tennessee),  and  the  funny  lucubrations 
of  "Mozis  Addums"  (George  W.  Bagby  of  Virginia,  1828-1883), 
and  "Bill  Arp"  (Charles  Henry  Smith  of  Georgia,  1823-1903). 
Coarse  and  crude  though  some  of  this  humor  may  appear  to-day,  it 
is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  and  interesting  products  of  the 
Old  South,  and,  if  space  had  permitted,  it  would  have  been  more 
completely  represented  in  this  volume  by  the  inclusion  of  selections 
from  the  three  genuine  humorists  last  named. 

Many  of  the  writers  named  above  were  journalists  at  one  time  or 
another  in  their  careers,  a  fact  which  reminds  us  that  the  Old  South 

1  For  a  brief  account  of  Prentiss  as  a  speaker,  see  Reuben  Davis's  "  Recollections 
of  Mississippi  and  Mississippians  "  (1891),  pp.  81-83. 

2  See,  for  example,  the  large  collaborated  volume  of  essays  entitled  "  Cotton  is 
King." 

8  The  dates  seem  to  be  1846-1864  and  1866-1870. 


INTR  OD  UCTION  7 1 

numbered  among  its  editors  some  of  the  most  famous  in  the  whole 
country.  Thomas  Ritchie  (1778-1854),  editor  of  the  Richmond 
Enquirer;  the  rival  he  killed  in  a  duel,  John  Hampden  Pleasants 
(1797-1846),  of  the  Richmond  Whig;  George  D.  Prentice  of 
the  Louisville  Journal,  who  will  be  mentioned  again ;  the  elder 
Joseph  Gales  (1760-1841)  of  the  Raleigh  Register,  and  his 
sons  Joseph1  (1786-1860)  and  Seaton  (1828-1878)  ;  the  brilliant 
William  R.  Taber  of  the  Charleston  Mercury,  who  was  killed  in 
a  duel  in  1856  —  these  are  among  the  most  eminent  of  the  jour 
nalists  who  discussed  burning  questions  and  were  ever  ready  to 
fight  for  their  opinions.  Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  them  all 
was  the  erratic  John  Moncure  Daniel  (1825-1865),  editor  of  the 
Richmond  Examiner,  and  for  seven  years  minister  to  the  court 
of  Victor  Emmanuel  at  Turin.  His  criticism  of  President  Davis 
in  the  Civil  War  was  caustic  in  the  extreme,  and  the  fame  of  his 
editorials  and  the  impression  made  by  his  striking  personality, 
which  reminds  one  of  that  of  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke,  have 
not  yet  been  effaced  by  the  lapse  of  years.2 

It  is  almost  needless  to  append  to  this  brief  sketch  the  names 
of  the  numerous  writers  of  the  Old  South  whom  for  one  reason  or 
another  it  did  not  seem  proper  to  include  in  the  present  anthology. 
Many  are  mentioned  in  the  special  introductions  and  in  footnotes ; 
others  may  be  found  in  such  repositories  as  the  useful  Stedman- 
Hutchinson  "  Library  of  American  Literature  "  ;  others  of  still  less 
consequence  but  of  interest  to  the  student  of  the  literature  of  the 
state  to  which  they  belong  may  be  searched  for  in  special  biblio 
graphical  lists.3  It  is  more  important  to  warn  the  student  not  to 

1  Of  The  National  Intelligencer,  of  Washington,  D.C. 

2  Daniel  figures  in  the  interesting  "Autobiography"  (1904)  of  his  talented  and 
widely  accomplished  kinsman,  Mr.  Moncure  Daniel  Con  way,  who  was  born  in 
Virginia  (1831) ,  but  has  long  been  a  citizen  of  the  world.     Daniel's  war  editorials 
were  gathered  by  his  brother  Frederick  S.  Daniel  in  a  privately  printed  volume 
(1868).    An  excellent  sketch  of  the  famous  editor  entitled  "John  M.  Daniel's 
Latch- Key  "  was  written  by  the  editor  and  humorist  already  mentioned,  Dr.  George 
W.  Bagby  (Lynchburg,  1868).    See  also  an  article,  "  John  M.  Daniel  and  his  Con 
temporaries,"  by  O.  P.  Fitzgerald,  in  The  South  Atlantic  Quarterly  for  January, 
1905,  —  a  sketch  of  several  old-time  editors  by  one  who  knew  many  of  them. 

3  Merely  to  illustrate  the  kinds  of  books  and  some  of  the  writers  that  might  yield 
materials  for  short  essays  the  following  brief  list  of  names  may  be  given :  Rev.  Deve- 


72  INTR  OD  UCTION 

allow  his  patriotic  feelings  to  cause  him  to  set  too  high  a  value  on 
even  the  best  work  that  has  been  brought  together  in  this  division 
of  our  volume,  and  to  counsel  him  to  do  his  work  on  Southern 
literature  always  with  an  eye  to  the  history  of  the  literature  of  the 
entire  country  as  he  will  find  it  outlined  in  such  works  as  those  by 
Professor  Richardson,  Professor  Wendell,  and  the  present  editor. 

reuxjarratt  (1733-1801),  whose  posthumous  "  Autobiography  "  (1806)  is  very  read 
able;  Rev.  Robert  B.Semple  (1769-1831),  author  of  the  "History  of  Virginia  Baptists" 
(1810) ;  Bishop  William  Meade  (1789-1862),  author  of  "  Old  Churches,  Ministers, 
and  Families  of  Virginia"  (1857)  — these  three  writers  suffice  to  show  how  much 
interesting  material  there  is  relative  to  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  the  South; 
Robert  Greenhow  (1800-1854),  historian  of  Tripoli  and  Oregon;  and  George  Fitz- 
hugh  (1807-1881),  the  sociologist,  author  of  the  curious  "  Cannibals  All,  or  Slaves 
without  Masters  "  (1856)  ;  Professor  Thomas  R.  Dew  of  William  and  Mary  College 
(1802-1846),  another  sociologist,  must  suffice  for  Virginia.  Hinton  Rowan  Helper 
(1829),  author  of  the  sensational  "  Impending  Crisis  of  the  South  "  (1857) ;  The- 
ophilus  Hunter  Hill  (1836-1901),  poet  and  editor;  and  the  historian  John  Hill 
Wheeler  (1806-1882)  may  represent  North  Carolina,  a  state  which  has  given  inter 
esting  men  to  other  commonwealths ;  for  example,  the  jurist  and  historian  Franfois 
Xavier  Martin  (1764-1846)  to  Louisiana,  and  the  statesman  and  historian  Thomas 
Hart  Benton  (1782-1858)10  Missouri.  South  Carolina  furnishes  many  subjects; 
for  example,  Francis  Kinloch  (1755-1826) ,  the  traveller  and  patriot ;  Mrs.  Louisa  S. 
McCord  (1810-1880)  and  her  husband  Colonel  David  J.  McCord  (1797-1855) ;  the 
essayist  Henry  J.  Nott  (1797-1837)  ;  Charles  Fraser  (1782-1860),  painter  and  poet; 
the  able  Presbyterian  clergyman  and  writer,  Dr.  James  H.  Thornwell  (1812-1862) ; 
the  once  popular  poetess,  Miss  MaryE.  Lee  (1813-1849)  ;  and  the  less-known  relig 
ious  poetess,  Miss  Catherine  Gendron  Poyas  (1813-1882) .  Georgia  suggests  among 
other  names  those  of  the  Rev.  Francis  Robert  Goulding  (1810-1881),  author  of  that 
old-time  favorite  of  boys  and  girls,  "  The  Young  Marooners  "  (1852 ;  enlarged,  1866) ; 
and  of  the  accomplished  lawyer,  Robert  M.  Charlton  (1807-1854).  Togo  through 
the  other  states  would  be  tedious,  but  attention  may  be  called  to  the  once  popular 
novelist,  Mrs.  Caroline  Lee  Hentz  (1800-1856),  who  lived  in  several  parts  of  the 
South;  to  Dr.  William  A.  Caruthers  (1800-1850),  who  was  born  in  Virginia  but 
became  a  physician  in  Georgia,  his  romances,  such  as  the  readable  "  Knights  of 
the  Horse-Shoe  "  (1845  and  1881),  dealing  with  colonial  times  in  the  state  of  his  nativ 
ity;  to  the  poet  Augustus  J.  Requier  (1825-1887)  of  South  Carolina  and  Alabama, 
author  of  the  Confederate  lyric  "  Ashes  of  Glory  " ;  to  Mrs.  Catharine  Warfield  (1816- 
1877)  of  Mississippi  and  Kentucky,  author  of  "  The  Household  of  Bouverie  "  (1860) 
and  other  novels ;  and  to  such  distinguished  foreigners  as  Dr.  Thomas  Cooper  and 
Professor  Francis  Lieber,  who  spent  a  portion  of  their  lives  at  the  South  Carolina 
College  of  Columbia.  A  topic  of  special  interest  is  the  magazines  of  the  ante  bellum 
South,  particularly  those  that  were  born  —  and  died  —  in  Charleston. 


JOHN  MARSHALL  73 


JOHN    MARSHALL 


[JOHN  MARSHALL,  the  eldest  son  of  Colonel  Thomas  Marshall,  a  friend  of 
Washington  and  a  distinguished  Revolutionary  soldier,  was  born  in  German- 
town,  Fauquier  County,  Virginia,  September  24,  1755,  and  died  in  Phila 
delphia,  July  6,  1835.  He  received  a  good  education,  began  to  study  law, 
joined  his  father  in  resisting  the  British  by  taking  arms,  served  with  distinc 
tion,  and  was  made  captain  in  1779.  Toward  the  end  of  the  war  he  resumed 
his  legal  studies,  and  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1780.  Then  he  served 
again  in  the  army,  and  later  began  a  practice  which  was  soon  extensive. 
About  1783  he  made  Richmond,  where  his  house  still  stands,  his  permanent 
residence.  He  was  elected  to  the  legislature  and  defended  the  new  Constitu 
tion  in  the  Virginia  Convention  of  1788,  answering  Patrick  Henry  with  great 
acumen.  He  became  a. strong  Federalist  in  politics,  and  in  1795  Washington 
offered  him  the  attorney-generalship,  which  he  declined.  In  1797  he  was  one 
of  the  three  American  commissioners  to  France  who  were  involved  in  the 
famous  X.  Y.  Z.  affair.  In  1799  he  was  elected  to  Congress  and  later  was 
made  Secretary  of  State,  filling  the  position  until  the  close  of  John  Adams's 
administration,  when  he  was  appointed  Chief  Justice  (January,  1801).  In  his 
decisions  he  had  an  opportunity  to  influence  profoundly  the  development  of  the 
country  in  the  direction  of  centralization,  and  in  a  very  true  sense  he  may  be 
regarded  as  the  chief  supporter  of  the  federal  government  between  Washing 
ton  and  Lincoln.  In  consequence  he  was  brought  into  strong  opposition  with 
statesmen  like  Jefferson,  who  believed  in  limiting  the  powers  of  the  central 
government.  -But  his  force  as  a  legal  reasoner  and  his  personal  integrity  were 
such  that  he  commanded  the  respect  of  all,  and  laid  the  basis  of  a  fame  that 
seems  destined  to  increase  rather  than  to  diminish.  He  is  regarded  by  com 
mon  consent  as  the  greatest  of  American  jurists,  although  it  is  freely  admitted 
that  there  have  been  much  more  learned  lawyers.  As  a  writer,  apart  from  his 
great  opinions,  h'is  reputation  rests  upon  an  elaborate  life  of  Washington^ 
undertaken  at  the  request  of  that  statesman's  relatives.  This  was  published 
in  five  volumes  between  1804  and  1807.  In  many  respects  it  is  more  of  a 
history  than  a  biography,  indeed,  the  first  volume  was  afterward  issued  sepa 
rately  as  a  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  colonies.  Shortly  before  his 
death  the  work,  which  is  still  used  as  an  authority  but  scarcely  read  for  pleas 
ure,  was  revised  and  condensed.  There  is  a  short  life  of  Marshall  by  Allan 
B.  Magruder  in  the  "  American  Statesmen  "  series.] 


74  JOHN  MARSHALL 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  WASHINGTON1 

[FROM  "THE  LIFE  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON."    SECOND  EDITION. 
REPRINT  OF  1850.] 

No  man  has  ever  appeared  upon  the  theatre  of  public  action, 
whose  integrity  was  more  incorruptible,  or  whose  principles  were 
more  perfectly  free  from  the  contamination  of  those  selfish  and 
unworthy  passions,  which  find  their  nourishment  in  the  conflicts 
of  party.  Having  no  views  which  required  concealment,  his  real 
and  avowed  motives  were  the  same  ;  and  his  whole  correspondence 
does  not  furnish  a  single  case,  from  which  even  an  enemy  would 
infer  that  he  was  capable,  under  any  circumstances,  of  stooping  to 
the  employment  of  duplicity.  No  truth  can  be  uttered  with  more 
confidence  than  that  his  ends  were  always  upright,  and  his  means 
always  pure.  He  exhibits  the  rare  example  of  a  politician  to 
whom  wiles  were  absolutely  unknown,  and  whose  professions  to 
foreign  governments,  and  to  his  own  countrymen,  were  always 
sincere.  In  him  was  fully  exemplified  the  real  distinction,  which 
forever  exists,  between  wisdom  and  cunning,  and  the  importance 
as  well  as  truth  of  the  maxim  that  "  honesty  is  the  best  policy." 

If  Washington  possessed  ambition,  that  passion  was,  in  his 
bosom,  so  regulated  by  principles,  or  controlled  by  circumstances, 
that  it  was  neither  vicious  nor  turbulent.  Intrigue  was  never  em 
ployed  as  the  means  of  its  gratification,  nor  was  personal  aggran 
dizement  its  object.  The  various  high  and  important  stations  to 
which  he  was  called  by  the  public  voice,  were  unsought  by  himself; 
and,  in  consenting  to  fill  them,  he  seems  rather  to  have  yielded  to 

1  The  passage  is  taken  from  the  concluding  pages  of  the  last  chapter.  The 
student  will  be  interested  in  comparing  it  with  the  Funeral  Oration  delivered  in 
1800  by  Henry  ("  Light  Horse  Harry  ")  Lee  ^756-1818),  father  of  General  Robert 
E.  Lee,  and  author  of  "  Memoirs  of  the  War  in  the  Southern  Department  of  the 
United  States"  (1812),  which  his  distinguished  son  afterward  revised  (1869).  In 
this  oration  occur  the  famous  phrases,  "  First  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen,  he  was  second  to  none  in  the  endearing  scenes  of  private 
life."  In  the  resolutions  passed  by  the  House  of  Representatives  on  Washington's 
death,  General  Lee  had  written,  "  the  MAN,  first  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the 
hearts  of  his  fellow-citizens."  See  Marshall's  "  Washington,"  II,  441. 


MASON  LOCKE    WEEMS  75 

a  general  conviction  that  the  interests  of  his  country  would  be 
thereby  promoted,  than  to  an  avidity  for  power. 

Neither  the  extraordinary  partiality  of  the  American  people, 
the  extravagant  praises  which  were  bestowed  upon  him,  nor  the 
inveterate  opposition  and  malignant  calumnies  which  he  encoun 
tered,  had  any  visible  influence  upon  his  conduct.  The  cause  is 
to  be  looked  for  in  the  texture  of  his  mind. 

In  him,  that  innate  and  unassuming  modesty  which  adulation 
would  have  offended,  which  the  voluntary  plaudits  of  millions 
could  not  betray  into  indiscretion,  and  which  never  obtruded 
upon  others  his  claims  to  superior  consideration,  was  happily 
blended  with  a  high  and  correct  sense  of  personal  dignity,  and 
with  a  just  consciousness  of  that  respect  which  is  due  to  station. 
Without  exertion,  he  could  maintain  the  happy  medium  between 
that  arrogance  which  wounds,  and  that  facility  which  allows  the 
office  to  be  degraded  in  the  person  who  fills  it. 


MASON   LOCKE  WEEMS 

[ONE  of  the  most  curious  and  interesting  figures  in  American  literature  is  the 
celebrated  "  Parson  Weems."  He  was  born  at  Dumfries,  Virginia,  about  1760, 
and  died  at  Beaufort,  South  Carolina,  May  23,  1825.  At  the  end  of  the  Revo 
lution  he  sought  ordination  in  England,  there  being  then  no  American  bishop, 
and  he  solicited  the  aid  of  Franklin  in  the  matter.  Later  he  was  rector  of  Pohick 
Church  near  Mount  Vernon  and  had  Washington  for  a  parishioner.  His  salary 
did  not  suffice  to  support  his  numerous  family,  and  about  1790  he  became  a 
book  agent  for  the  well-known  Philadelphia  publisher  and  writer,  Mathew 
Carey.  He  adopted  methods  similar  to  those  now  employed  by  itinerant 
venders  of  patent  medicines,  and  was  very  successful.  He  rode  through  the 
South,  and  wherever  he  could  find  a  fair  or  other  gathering,  he  would  collect 
people  around  him,  talk  about  his  books,  tell  anecdotes,  and  amuse  his  audi 
ence  by  his  eccentricities.  He  was  a  noted  performer  on  the  fiddle  and  would 
play  for  young  people  to  dance  —  on  one  occasion  a  falling  screen  actually 
revealed  him  playing  in  his  clerical  clothes,  to  the  great  scandal  of  the 
beholders.  In  1800  he  turned  author,  publishing  his  "Life  of  Washington," 
which  has  been  one  of  the  most  popular  books  ever  written  by  an  American. 
Lives  of  Marion  (1805),  Franklin  (1817),  and  Penn  (1819)  followed.  All 
are  marked  by  fluency  of  narrative  and  the  gift  of  making  a  good  point,  but 


76  MASON  LOCKE    WEEMS 

they  have  no  pretensions  to  accuracy.  The  story  of  the  cherry  tree  rests  solely 
on  Weems's  authority  and  is  of  very  slight  credibility;  the  account  of  Marion, 
which  purported  to  be  by  Weems  and*  General  Peter  Horry,  was  so  embel 
lished  that  the  latter  was  outraged  and  disclaimed  responsibility  for  the  way 
Weems  presented  the  facts.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  "  Parson  " 
intended  to  be  unveracious ;  he  simply  thought,  with  many  of  his  contempo 
raries,  and  actually  stated,  that  a  story  with  a  good  moral  would  benefit  his 
readers,  whether  it  were  true  or  not.  He  also  wrote  curious  stories  dealing 
very  crudely  with  drunkards  and  murderers,  his  object  in  writing  them  being 
to  strike  terror  into  the  souls  of  evil  doers.  These  are  quite  rare,  but  copies  of 
his  chief  biographies  are  easily  obtained — the  "Life  of  George  Washington" 
went  through  about  seventy  editions  —  and  are  worth  a  glance,  since  they  well 
illustrate  the  sort  of  book  that  appeals  to  the  simpler  elements  of  our  popu 
lation.  A  good  account  of  Weems  was  contributed  to  the  Sunday  News  of 
Charleston  for  August  30,  1903,  by  Ludwig  Lewisohn.] 


WASHINGTON  AND  THE  CHERRY  TREE1 

[FROM  "THE  LIFE  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  WITH  CURIOUS  ANECDOTES, 
EQUALLY  HONOURABLE  TO  HIMSELF  AND  EXEMPLARY  TO  HIS  YOUNG 
COUNTRYMEN."  SEVENTEENTH  EDITION,  1816.] 

THE  following  anecdote  is  a  case  in  point.  It  is  too  valuable  to 
be  lost,  and  too  true  to  be  doubted ;  for  it  was  communicated  to 
me  by  the  same  excellent  lady  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  the 
last. 

"When  George,"  said  she,  "was  about  six  years  old,  he  was 
made  the  wealthy  master  of  a  hatchet !  of  which,  like  most  little 
boys,  he  was  immoderately  fond ;  and  was  constantly  going  about 
chopping  everything  that  came  in  his  way.  One  day,  in  the  gar 
den,  where  he  often  amused  himself  hacking  his  mother's  pea- 
sticks,  he  unluckily  tried  the  edge  of  his  hatchet  on  the  body  of 
a  beautiful  young  English  cherry-tree,  which  he  barked  so  terribly, 
that  I  don't  believe  the  tree  ever  got  the  better  of  it.  The  next 
morning  the  old  gentleman,  finding  out  what  had  befallen  his  tree, 
which,  by  the  by,  was  a  great  favourite,  came  into  the  house ;  and 

1  From  Chapter  II.  It  is  said  that  the  first  version  of  the  cherry-tree  story  ap 
pears  in  the  fifth  edition  of  the  "  Life,"  printed  in  Augusta,  Georgia,  in  1806,  the 
earlier  editions  having  contained  no  stories  of  Washington's  boyhood.  See 
William  W.  Ellsworth's  letter  to  The  Evening  Post,  February  2,  1905. 


MARION'S  ESCAPE  77 

with  much  warmth  asked  for  the  mischievous  author,  declaring  at 
the  same  time,  that  he  would  not  have  taken  five  guineas  for  his 
tree.  Nobody  could  tell  him  anything  about  it.  Presently  George 
and  his  hatchet  made  their  appearance.  '  George]  said  his 
father,  '  do  you  know  who  killed  that  beautiful  little  cherry-tree 
yonder  in  the  garden  ? '  This  was  a  tough  question ;  and  George 
staggered  under  it  for  a  moment ;  but  quickly  recovered  himself : 
and  looking  at  his  father,  with  the  sweet  face  of  youth  brightened 
with  the  inexpressible  charm  of  all- conquering  truth,  he  bravely 
cried  out,  '  I  can't  tell  a  lie,  Pa ;  you  know  I  can't  tell  a  lie.  I 
did  cut  it  with  my  hatchet.'  '  Run  to  my  arms,  you  dearest  boy,' 
cried  his  father  in  transports, '  run  to  my  arms  ;  glad  am  I,  George, 
that  you  killed  my  tree  ;  for  you  have  paid  me  for  it  a  thousand 
fold.  Such  an  act  of  heroism  in  my  son  is  more  worth  than  a 
thousand  trees,  though  blossomed  with  silver,  and  their  fruits  of 
purest  gold.' " 

MARION'S   ESCAPE 

[FROM  "  THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  FRANCIS  MARION,  A  CELEBRATED  PARTISAN 
OFFICER  IN  THE  REVOLUTIONARY  WAR,  AGAINST  THE  BRITISH  AND  TORIES 
IN  SOUTH  CAROLINA  AND  GEORGIA.  BY  BRIG. -GEN.  P.  HORRY,  OF  MARI 
ON'S  BRIGADE  :  AND  M.  L.  WEEMS."  ELEVENTH  EDITION.  FRANKFORD 
(near  Phil.}.  PUBLISHED  BY  JOSEPH  ALLEN,  1826.] 

How  happy  it  is  for  man,  that  the  author  of  his  being  loves 
him  so  much  better  than  he  loves  himself;  and  has  established  so 
close  a  connexion  between  his  duty  and  his  advantage.  This 
delightful  truth  was  remarkably  exemplified  in  an  event  that 
befell  Marion  about  this  time,  March,  1780.  Dining  with  a 
squad  of  choice  Whigs,  in  Charleston,  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Alex 
ander  M'Queen,  Tradd  street,  he  was  so  frequently  pressed  to 
bumpers  of  old  wine,  that  he  found  himself  in  a  fair  way  to  get 
drunk.  'Twas  in  vain  he  attempted  to  beat  a  retreat.  The  com 
pany  swore,  that  that  would  never  do  for  General  Marion.  Find 
ing,  at  last,  that  there  was  no  other  way  of  escaping  a  debauch, 
but  by  leaping  out  of  one  of  the  windows  of  the  dining-room, 
which  was  on  the  second  story,  he  bravely  undertook  it.  It  cost 


78  WILLIAM    WIRT 

him,  however,  a  broken  ankle.  When  the  story  got  about  in 
Charleston,  most  people  said  he  was  a  great  fool  for  his  pains ; 
but  the  event  soon  proved  that  Marion  was  in  the  right,  and  that 
there  is  no  policy  like  sticking  to  a  man's  duty.  For,  behold, 
presently  Charleston  was  invested  by  a  large  British  army,  and  the 
American  general  (Lincoln)1  finding  Marion  was  utterly  unfit  for 
duty,  advised  him  to  push  off  in  a  litter  to  his  seat  in  St.  John's 
parish.  Thus  providentially  was  Marion  preserved  to  his  country 
when  Charleston  fell,2  as  it  soon  did,  with  all  our  troops. 


WILLIAM   WIRT 

[WILLIAM  WIRT,  who  was  not  merely  a  distinguished  lawyer,  orator,  and 
statesman,  but  for  many  years  was  regarded  as  the  chief  Southern  man  of  letters, 
was  born  in  Bladensburg,  Maryland,  November  8,  1772,  and  died  in  Washington, 
D.C.,  February  18,  1834.  He  was  of  Swiss  and  German  stock  and  was  early  left 
an  orphan.  He  received  a  good  education  for  those  days,  read  widely,  secured 
an  excellent  position  as  a  family  tutor,  and  studied  law.  He  practised  in 
Virginia,  and  through  his  marriage  with  a  Miss  Gilmer  was  thrown  with  many 
distinguished  men,  including  Jefferson.  At  the  close  of  the  century  his  wife, 
died  and  Wirt  removed  to  Richmond,  thence  to  Norfolk,  and  back  again  to 
Richmond,  securing  a  judicial  office  and  also  extending  his  reputation  by  his 
"  Letters  of  the  British  Spy,"  Addisonian  essays  first  published  in  a  Richmond 
newspaper  (1803).  In  1807  he  delivered  in  the  prosecution  of  Aaron  Burr  at 
Richmond  the  celebrated  speech  from  which  schoolboys  have  taken  a  favorite 
declamation.  After  this  Wirt  continued  to  practise,  formed  a  literary  circle 
which  joined  in  the  production  of  essays  such  as  "The  Old  Bachelor"  (1812), 
and  took  a  minor  part  in  state  politics.  In  1817  he  published  his  most  famous 
book,  "  Sketches  of  the  Life  and  Character  of  Patrick  Henry."  In  this,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  he  created  a  legend  rather  than  portrayed  a  man,  but  the 
vitality  of  the  book  is  a  proof  of  its  literary  power.  In  the  same  year  he  was 
made  Attorney-General  of  the  United  States  and  held  the  office  through  the 
administrations  of  Monroe  and  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  although  he  made 
no  marked  impression  as  a  statesman,  he  maintained  his  position  as  one  of 
the  most  eminent  lawyers  of  the  country.  He  then  retired  to  Baltimore,  his 
closing  years  being  uneventful,  save  for  the  fact  that  in  1832  he  made  the 
mistake  of  allowing  himself  to  be  voted  for  as  the  candidate  of  the  Anti- 
Masonic  party  for  the  presidency.  He  was  an  admirable  example  of  the 

1  General  Benjamin  Lincoln  (1733-1810)  of  Massachusetts.          2  May,  1780. 


7 "HE  BLIND  PREACHER  79 

cultured  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  well  read  in  the  classics,  carrying  his 
handsome  person  with  great  dignity,  kindly  and  courteous,  devoted  to  his 
profession,  his  country,  and  his  church.  As  an  orator  and  writer  he  was 
somewhat  too  ornate  and  florid  to  suit  modern  taste,  nor  was  he  in  any  sense 
profound  or  original;  but  he  was  clear  and  felicitous  both  in  his  speaking  and  in 
his  writing,  and  in  his  private  correspondence  he  was  often  charming.  Among 
his  Virginia  associates  should  be  specially  mentioned  the  Richmond  lawyer,  John 
Wickham  and  a  brilliant  relation  by  marriage,  Francis  Walker  Gilmer,  to  the 
latter  of  whom  many  of  Wirt's  best  letters  were  addressed.  Although  we  cannot 
now  regard  these  men  as  more  than  brilliant  amateurs  in  their  literary  capacity, 
we  should  make  a  mistake  if  we  did  not  recognize  their  great  ability  as  advo 
cates  and  learned  lawyers,  and  their  position  as  leaders  in  a  society  eminent 
for  its  virtues  and  graces.1] 


THE   BLIND   PREACHER 

[FROM  "THE  LETTERS  OF  THE  BRITISH  SPY."    TENTH  EDITION   (1832). 
REPRINT  OF  1856.] 

IT  was  one  Sunday,  as  I  travelled  through  the  county  of  Orange, 
that  my  eye  was  caught  by  a  cluster  of  horses  tied  near  a  ruinous, 
old,  wooden  house,  in  the  forest,  not  far  from  the  road-side.  Hav 
ing  frequently  seen  such  objects  before,  in  travelling  through  these 
states,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  understanding  that  this  was  a  place  of 
religious  worship. 

Devotion  alone  should  have  stopped  me,  to  join  in  the  duties  of 
the  congregation ;  but  I  must  confess  that  curiosity  to  hear  the 
preacher  of  such  a  wilderness  was  not  the  least  of  my  motives. 
On  entering,  I  was  struck  with  his  preternatural  appearance ;  he 
was  a  tall  and  very  spare  old  man ;  his  head,  which  was  covered 
with  a  white  linen  cap,  his  shrivelled  hands,  and  his  voice,  were  all 

1  An  interesting  and  valuable  "  Memoir "  of  Wirt  in  two  volumes  (1849)  was 
written  by  John  Pendleton  Kennedy  (q.v.}.  Unfortunately  one  can  never  be  sure 
that  the  letters  contained  in  it  are  precisely  what  Wirt  wrote.  The  present  editor, 
in  preparing  a  monograph  on  the  mission  of  Francis  Walker  Gilmer  to  secure 
English  professors  for  the  University  of  Virginia,  had  an  opportunity  of  examining 
some  of  Wirt's  letters  in  the  original  and  found  that  they  had  lost  in  raciness 
through  Kennedy's  attempts  to  amend  them.  See  "  English  Culture  in  Virginia" 
(1889),  published  in  the  Johns  Hopkins  "Studies  in  Historical  and  Political 
Science." 


80  WILLIAM    WIRT 

shaking  under  the  influence  of  a  palsy ;  and  a  few  moments  ascer 
tained  to  me  that  he  was  perfectly  blind. 

The  first  emotions  which  touched  my  breast,  were  those  of 
mingled  pity  and  veneration.  But  ah  !  sacred  God  !  how  soon 
were  all  my  feelings  changed  !  The  lips  of  Plato  were  never 
more  worthy  of  a  prognostic  swarm  of  bees,  than  were  the  lips  of 
this  holy  man  !  It  was  a  day  of  the  administration  of  the  sacra 
ment  ;  and  his  subject,  of  course,  was  the  passion  of  our  Saviour. 
I  had  heard  the  subject  handled  a  thousand  times :  I  had  thought 
it  exhausted  long  ago.  Little  did  I  suppose,  that  in  the  wild  woods 
of  America,  I  was  to  meet  with  a  man  whose  eloquence  would  give 
to  this  topic  a  new  and  more  sublime  pathos,  than  I  had  ever 
before  witnessed. 

As  he  descended  from  the  pulpit,  to  distribute  the  mystic 
symbols,  there  was  a  peculiar,  a  more  than  human  solemnity  in 
his  air  and  manner  which  made  my  blood  run  cold,  and  my  whole 
frame  shiver. 

He  then  drew  a  picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our  Saviour;  his 
trial  before  Pilate ;  his  ascent  up  Calvary ;  his  crucifixion,  and  his 
death.  I  knew  the  whole  history;  but  never,  until  then,  had  I 
heard  the  circumstances  so  selected,  so  arranged,  so  colored  !  It 
was  all  new :  and  I  seemed  to  have  heard  it  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life.  His  enunciation  was  so  deliberate,  that  his  voice  trembled 
on  every  syllable ;  and  every  heart  in  the  assembly  trembled 
in  unison.  His  peculiar  phrases  had  that  force  of  description  that 
the  original  scene  appeared  to  be,  at  that  moment,  acting  before 
our  eyes.  We  saw  the  very  faces  of  the  Jews  :  the  staring,  fright 
ful  distortions  of  malice"  and  rage.  We  saw  the  buffet ;  my  soul 
kindled  with  a  flame  of  indignation ;  and  my  hands  were  involun 
tarily  and  convulsively  clinched. 

But  when  he  came  to  touch  on  the  patience,  the  forgiving 
meekness  of  our  Saviour ;  when  he  drew,  to  the  life,  his  blessed 
eyes  streaming  in  tears  to  heaven ;  his  voice  breathing  to  God  a 
soft  and  gentle  prayer  of  pardon  on  his  enemies,  "  Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  "  —  the  voice  of  the  preacher, 
which  had  all  along  faltered,  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until  his  utter 
ance  being  entirely  obstructed  by  the  force  of  his  feelings,  he  raised 


BURR  AND  BLENNERHASSETT  8 1 

his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and  burst  into  a  loud  and  irrepressible 
flood  of  grief.  The  effect  is  inconceivable.  The  whole  house 
resounded  with  the  mingled  groans,  and  sobs,  and  shrieks  of  the 
congregation.  .  .  . 

Guess  my  surprise,  when,  on  my  arrival  at  Richmond,  and  men 
tioning  the  name  of  this  man,  I  found  not  one  person  who  had 
ever  before  heard  of  James  Waddell 71  Is  it  not  strange,  that 
such  a  genius  as  this,  so  accomplished  a  scholar,  so  divine  an  ora 
tor,  should  be  permitted  to  languish  and  die  in  obscurity,  within 
eighty  miles  of  the  metropolis  of  Virginia  ? 

BURR  AND   BLENNERHASSETT 

[FROM  THE  ARGUMENT  IN  THE  TRIAL  OF  AARON  BURR.  UNITED  STATES 
CIRCUIT  COURT,  RICHMOND,  VIRGINIA,  1807.  THE  TEXT  is  THAT  OF 
KENNEDY'S  "LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  WIRT."  REVISED  EDITION,  1850.] 

WHO  is  Blennerhassett  ?  A  native  of  Ireland ;  a  man  of  letters, 
who  fled  from  the  storms  of  his  own  country  to  find  quiet  in  ours. 
His  history  shows  that  War  is  not  the  natural  element  of  his  mind. 
If  it  had  been,  he  never  would  have  exchanged  Ireland  for  Amer 
ica.  So  far  is  an  army  from  furnishing  the  society  natural  and 
proper  to  Mr.  Blennerhassett's  character,  that  on  his  arrival  in 
America,  he  retired  even  from  the  population  of  the  Atlantic  States, 
and  sought  quiet  and  solitude  in  the  bosom  of  our  western  forests. 
But  he  carried  with  him  taste  and  science  and  wealth  ;  and  lo,  the 
desert  smiled  !  Possessing  himself  of  a  beautiful  island  in  the  Ohio, 
he  rears  upon  it  a  palace,  and  decorates  it  with  every  romantic 
embellishment  of  fancy.  A  shrubbery,  that  Shenstone 2  might  have 

1  James  Waddel  or  Waddell  must  have  deserved  much  of  Wirt's  praise;  indeed, 
the  latter  once  declared  that  he  had  fallen  short  of  the  truth  in  his  description, 
and  Madison  and  Patrick  Henry  praised  Waddell  highly.    He  was  born  in  Ireland 
in  1739  and  died  in  Louisa  County,  Virginia,  in  1805.    He  came  as  an  infant  to  Penn 
sylvania,  became  a  teacher,  then  emigrated  to  Virginia,  and  under  the  guidance  of 
the  famous  Samuel  Davies  entered  the  Presbyterian  ministry.     He  filled  various 
charges  until  about  1785  when  he  partly  took  up  teaching  again.   He  became  blind 
in  1787.     Before  his  death  he  ordered  that  all  his  manuscripts  be  burned.     Thus 
his  reputation  depends  upon  the  above  sketch  and  upon  tradition. 

2  William  Shenstone  (1714-1763) ,  an  English  poet  noted  for  the  taste  he  displayed 
in  laying  out  his  country-seat. 


82  WILLIAM   WIRT 

envied,  blooms  around  him.  Music,  that  might  have  charmed 
Calypso  and  her  nymphs,  is  his.  An  extensive  library  spreads  its 
treasures  before  him.  A  philosophical  apparatus  offers  to  him  all 
the  secrets  and  mysteries  of  nature.  Peace,  tranquillity  and  inno 
cence  shed  their  mingled  delights  around  him.  And  to  crown  the 
enchantment  of  the  scene,  a  wife,  who  is  said  to  be  lovely  even 
beyond  her  sex,  and  graced  with  every  accomplishment  that  can 
render  it  irresistible,  had  blessed  him  with  her  love  and  made  him 
the  father  of  several  children.  The  evidence  would  convince  you 
that  this  is  but  a  faint  picture  of  the  real  life.  In  the  midst  of  all 
this  peace,  this  innocent  simplicity  and  this  tranquillity,  this  feast 
of  the  mind,  this  pure  banquet  of  the  heart,  the  destroyer  comes ; 
he  comes  to  change  this  paradise  into  a  hell.  Yet  the  flowers  do 
not  wither  at  his  approach.  No  monitory  shuddering  through  the 
bosom  of  their  unfortunate  possessor  warns  him  of  the  ruin  that  is 
coming  upon  him.  A  stranger  presents  himself.  Introduced  to 
their  civilities  by  the  high  rank  which  he  had  lately  held  in  his 
country,  he  soon  finds  his  way  to  their  hearts  by  the  dignity  and 
elegance  of  his  demeanor,  the  light  and  beauty  of  his  conversation, 
and  the  seductive  and  fascinating  power  of  his  address.  The  con 
quest  was  not  difficult.  Innocence  is  ever  simple  and  credulous. 
Conscious  of  no  design  itself,  it  suspects  none  in  others.  It  wears 
no  guard  before  its  breast.  Every  door,  and  portal,  and  avenue 
of  the  heart  is  thrown  open,  and  all  who  choose  it  enter.  Such 
was  the  state  of  Eden  when  the  serpent  entered  its  bowers.  The 
prisoner,  in  a  more  engaging  form,  winding  himself  into  the  open 
and  unpractised  heart  of  the  unfortunate  Blennerhassett,  found  but 
little  difficulty  in  changing  the  native  character  of  that  heart  and 
the  objects  of  its  affection.  By  degrees  he  infuses  into  it  the  poison 
of  his  own  ambition.  He  breathes  into  it  the  fire  of  his  own  cour 
age  ;  a  daring  and  desperate  thirst  for  glory ;  an  ardor  panting 
for  great  enterprises,  for  all  the  storm  and  bustle  and  hurricane  of 
life.  In  a  short  time  the  whole  man  is  changed,  and  every  object 
of  his  former  delight  is  relinquished.  No  more  he  enjoys  the 
tranquil  scene ;  it  has  become  flat  and  insipid  to  his  taste.  His 
books  are  abandoned.  His  retort  and  crucible  are  thrown  aside. 
His  shrubbery  blooms  and  breathes  its  fragrance  upon  the  air  in 


BURR  AND  BLENNERHASSETT  83 

vain ;  he  likes  it  not.  His  ear  no  longer  drinks  the  rich  melody  of 
music ;  it  longs  for  the  trumpet's  clangor  and  the  cannon's  roar. 
Even  the  prattle  of  his  babes,  once  so  sweet,  no  longer  affects 
him ;  and  the  angel  smile  of  his  wife,  which  hitherto  touched  his 
bosom  with  ecstasy  so  unspeakable,  is  now  unseen  and  unfelt. 
Greater  objects  have  taken  possession  of  his  soul.  His  imagina 
tion  has  been  dazzled  by  visions  of  diadems,  of  stars  and  garters 
and  titles  of  nobility.  He  has  been  taught  to  burn  with  restless 
emulation  at  the  names  of  great  heroes  and  conquerors.  His  en 
chanted  island  is  destined  soon  to  relapse  into  a  wilderness  ;  and 
in  a  few  months  we  find  the  beautiful  and  tender  partner  of  his 
bosom,  whom  he  lately  "  permitted  not  the  winds  of"  summer  "to 
visit  too  roughly,"1  we  find  her  shivering  at  midnight,  on  the  wintry 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  and  mingling  her  tears  with  the  torrents,  that 
froze  as  they  fell.  Yet  this  unfortunate  man,  thus  deluded  from 
his  interest  and  his  happiness,  thus  seduced  from  the  paths  of 
innocence  and  peace,  thus  confounded  in  the  toils  that  were  de 
liberately  spread  for  him,  and  overwhelmed  by  the  mastering  spirit 
and  genius  of  another  —  this  man,  thus  ruined  and  undone,  and 
made  to  play  a  subordinate  part  in  this  grand  drama  of  guilt  and 
treason,  this  man  is  to  be  called  the  principal  offender,  while  he, 
by  whom  he  was  thus  plunged  in  misery,  is  comparatively  innocent, 
a  mere  accessary  !  Is  this  reason?  Is  it  law?  Is  it  humanity? 
Sir,  neither  the  human  heart  nor  the  human  understanding  will 
bear  a  perversion  so  monstrous  and  absurd  !  so  shocking  to  the 
soul !  so  revolting  to  reason  !  Let  Aaron  Burr  then  not  shrink 
from  the  high  destination  which  he  has  courted;  and  having 
already  ruined  Blennerhassett  in  fortune,  character  and  happiness 
for  ever,  let  him  not  attempt  to  finish  the  tragedy  by  thrusting 
that  ill-fated  man  between  himself  and  punishment.2 

1  Wirt  was  probably  thinking  of  the  following  lines  :  — 

"  That  he  might  not  beteem  the  winds  of  heaven 
Visit  her  face  too  roughly." 

—  Hamlet,  I,  ii,  141-142. 

2  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  the  student  that,  greatly  to  the  disgust  of 
Jefferson,  Burr's  trial  miscarried,  and  that  it  is  believed  by  not  a  few  persons  to-day 
that  his  character  was  painted  in  too  sombre  colors  by  the  earlier  writers  of  our 
history. 


84  WILLIAM    WIRT 

TO   CATHARINE   WIRT 
[FROM  KENNEDY'S  "LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  WIRT,"  1850.] 

BALTIMORE,  November  24,  1822. 

MY  DEAR  CATHARINE  :  Yesterday  morning  I  arose  before  day, 
—  shaved  and  dressed  by  candlelight,  —  took  my  cane  and  walked 
to  market.  There  are  two  market-houses,  each  of  them  about 
three  or  four  times  as  long  as  ours  in  Washington.  The  first 
one  I  came  to  was  the  meat  market ;  the  next,  which  was  nearest 
the  basin,  was  the  fish  and  vegetable  market.  O  !  what  a  quantity 
of  superb  beef,  mutton,  lamb,  veal,  and  all  sorts  of  fowls  !  — 
Hogsheads  full  of  wild  ducks,  geese,  pheasants,  partridges ;  and 
then,  on  one  side  of  the  market-house,  leaving  only  a  narrow  lane 
between  them,  a  line  of  wagons  and  carts  groaning  under  the 
loads  of  country  productions;  these  wagons  and  carts  on  one 
side  and  the  market- houses  on  the  other  forming  a  lane  as  long 
as  from  our  house  to  St.  John's  Church.  I  must  not  forget  to 
mention  the  loads  of  sweet  cakes  of  all  sorts  and  fashions,  that 
covered  the  outside  tables  of  the  market-houses,  and  the  break 
fasts  that  were  cooking  everywhere  all  around  for  the  country 
people  who  come  many  miles  to  market. 

You  may  conceive  the  vast  quantity  of  provisions  that  must  be 
brought  to  this  market,  when  you  are  told  that  sixty  thousand 
people  draw  their  daily  supplies  from  it,  —  which  is  more  than 
twice  as  many  people  as  there  are  in  Washington,  Georgetown, 
Alexandria  and  Richmond,  all  put  together.  Well,  and  so,  after 
I  had  walked  all  round  and  round  and  through  the  market- house, 
I  left  it  and  bent  my  steps  toward  the  country,  and  walked  two 
miles  and  a  half  out  to  Mr.  Thompson's  to  breakfast.  It  had  been 
cloudy  and  rainy  for  several  days ;  but  the  night  before  had  been 
clear,  and  although  the  road  was  still  wet,  the  morning  above 
head  was  bright  and  beautiful.  After  walking  about  a  mile  I 
came  to  the  summit  of  a  hill  that  over-looks  the  city,  and  there  I 
stopped  a  moment  to  take  breath  and  look  back  upon  it.  The 


TO   CATHARINE    WIRT  85 

ground  had  begun  to  smoke  from  the  warmth  of  the  rising  sun, 
and  the  city  seemed  to  spread  itself  out  below  me  to  a  vast  extent 
—  a  huge  dusky  mass,  to  which  there  seemed  no  limit.  But 
towering  from  above  the  fog  was  the  Washington  Monument 
(a  single  beautiful  column  160  feet  in  height,  which  stands  in 
Howard's  Park,  and  is  rendered  indescribably  striking  and  interest 
ing  from  the  touching  solitude  of  the  scene  from  which  it  lifts  its 
head),  and  several  noble  steeples  of  churches,  interspersed  through 
out  the  west  of  the  city,  whose  gilded  summits  were  now  glittering 
in  the  sun.  Casting  the  eye  over  Baltimore,  it  lights  upon  the 
Chesapeake  Bay,  and,  after  wandering  over  that  flood  of  waters,  it 
rests  on  Fort  McHenry  and  its  star-spangled  banner.  This  is  the 
fort  where  our  soldiers  gained  so  much  glory  last  war,  and  the  very 
banner  with  regard  to  which  Mr.  Key's  beautiful  song  of  the 
"  Star-spangled  Banner  "  was  written  \_q.v.~].  After  feasting  my  eye 
for  some  time  on  the  rich,  diversified  and  boundless  landscape  that 
lay  before  me,  meditating  on  the  future  grandeur  of  this  city  and 
the  rising  glories  of  the  nation,  I  turned  around  my  face  to  resume 
my  walk  into  the  country,  when  all  its  soft  beauties  burst,  by  sur 
prise,  upon  me.  For  while  I  had  been  looking  back  at  the  town, 
bay  and  fort,  the  sun  had  risen  and  was  now  so  high  that  its  light 
was  pouring  full  upon  hill  and  valley,  field  and  forest,  blazing  in 
bright  reflection  from  all  the  eastern  windows  of  the  hundreds  of 
country-houses  that  crowned  the  heights  around  me,  and  dancing 
on  all  the  leaves  that  waved  and  wantoned  in  the  morning  breeze. 
No  city  in  the  world  has  a  more  beautiful  country  around  it  than 
Baltimore,  in  the  direction  of  the  west,  north  and  east.  In  the 
direction  of  Washington  it  is  unimproved ;  but  in  the  other  points 
all  that  could  have  been  expected  from  wealth  and  fine  taste  has 
been  accomplished.  The  grounds  which  were  originally  poor  have 
been  made  rich ;  they  lie  very  finely,  not  flat  and  tam'e,  nor  yet 
abrupt  and  rugged,  but  rising  and  falling  in  forms  of  endless  diver 
sity,  sometimes  soft  and  gentle,  at  others  bold  and  commanding. 
This  beautiful  undulating  surface  has  been  improved  with  great 
taste,  the  fields  richly  covered  with  grass,  the  clumps  of  trees, 
groves  and  forests  pruned  of  all  dead  limbs  and  all  deformities, 
and  flourishing  in  strong  and  healthy  luxuriance.  The  sites  for 


86  JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROANOKE 

the  houses  are  well  selected,  —  always  upon  some  eminence,  em 
bosomed  amid  beautiful  trees,  from  which  their  white  fronts  peep 
out  enchantingly ;  for  the  houses  are  all  white,  which  adds  much 
to  the  cheerfulness  and  grace  of  this  unrivalled  scenery.  I  hope 
one  of  these  days  to  show  it  to  you  in  person,  and  then  you  will 
be  able  to  imagine  what  a  delightful  ramble  I  had  to  Mr.  Thomp 
son's  yesterday  morning.  I  took  them  quite  by  surprise ;  but  it 
was  a  most  agreeable  one,  and  they  were  rejoiced  to  see  me.  Mr. 
Thompson  inquired  most  kindly  after  all  in  Washington,  —  and 
giving  me  a  good  country  breakfast,  (most  delightful  butter,) 
brought  me  back  to  town  in  his  gig,  where  we  arrived  by  nine 
o'clock,  an  hour  before  Court.  Was  not  this  an  industrious 
morning  ? 

Your  affectionate  father, 

WM.  WIRT. 


JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROANOKE 

[JOHN  RANDOLPH  was  born  at  Cawsons,  Virginia,  June  2,  1773,  and  died  in 
Philadelphia,  June  24,  1833.  He  was  seventh  in  descent  from  Pocahontas, 
the  Indian  princess  who  married  John  Rolfe.  His  father  died  when  he  was 
two  years  old ;  shortly  after  his  mother  married  St.  George  Tucker,  who  made 
a  good  stepfather.  He  did  not  get  much  schooling  and  has  himself  described, 
in  a  letter  to  his  nephew,  the  deficiencies  of  his  early  reading,  although 
probably  with  some  exaggeration.  In  1787  he  was  sent  to  Princeton;  the 
next  year,  after  the  death  of  the  mother  he  dearly  loved,  he  became  a  student 
of  Columbia  College.  Then  he  studied  law  in  Philadelphia  under  his  cousin, 
Edmund  Randolph,  Washington's  Attorney-Genera.1.  Some  dissipation,  an 
unfortunate  love  affair,  emotional  experiences  in  politics  and  in  religion,  seem 
to  have  combined  with  constitutional  infirmities  of  mind  to  give  his  character 
a  twist  that  affected  his  whole  life,  making  him  eccentric  always,  and  at  times, 
scarcely,  if  at  all,  sane.  About  1795  he  returned  to  Virginia  and  led  the  life 
of  a  planter,  family  troubles  adding  to  his  misanthropy.  In  1799  he  first  ap 
peared  as  an  orator  in  answer  to  Patrick  Henry  on  the  subject  of  the  Virginia 
Resolutions  against  the  Alien  and  Sedition  laws.  At  this  time  he  was  elected 
to  Congress,  where  he  made  an  indiscreet  speech  which  got  him  into  trouble 
with  some  military  officers,  and,  as  a  result,  with  President  Adams.  But  he 
soon  showed  his  genius  as  a  leader  in  the  House,  becoming  a  brilliant  de 
bater  and  for  a  time  the  Democratic  manager.  He  broke  with  his  relative 


JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROAN  OK E  87 

Jefferson,  however,  especially  as  the  latter  was  growing  more  and  more 
national  in  his  political  views,  while  Randolph  looked  upon  himself  as  the 
spokesman  of  an  old  and  important  state.  He  could  never  be  trusted  to 
carry  legislation  through  in  the  way  Jefferson  desired,  and  although  success 
ful  for  some  time  in  his  own  way,  he  failed  signally  in  his  attempt  to  secure  a 
verdict  against  Justice  Chase  in  the  impeachment  trial  of  that  Federalist 
judge.  Then,  too,  he  lost  the  support  of  the  administration  and  of  the 
Northern  Democrats  by  his  violence  in  debating  the  famous  case  of  the  Yazoo 
claims,  and  finally  he  became  a  congressional  free-lance,  attacking  or  defend 
ing  at  his  pleasure,  but  always  making  himself  feared  for  his  unrivalled  powers 
of  invective.  His  fellow-Virginians  were  proud  of  him,  and  returned  him 
almost  continuously  to  Congress,  where  he  upheld  the  doctrine  of  states  rights 
with  an  acumen  and  vigor  that  were  afterward  serviceable  to  Calhoun.  He 
was  opposed  to  slavery,  but  still  more  opposed  to  any  interference  with  the 
affairs  of  a  sovereign  state.  He  also  opposed  all  forms  of  war,  and  thus  found 
himself  at  odds  with  Madison  during  the  contest  of  1812.  His  most  famous 
quarrel  was  with  Henry  Clay  in  consequence  of  some  thoroughly  unjustified 
but  brilliantly  caustic  remarks  made  by  Randolph  with  regard  to  the  falsely 
charged  bargain  between  Clay  and  John  Quincy  Adams.  From  1825  to  1827 
he  represented  Virginia  in  the  Senate,  where  he  would  deliver  long,  rambling 
speeches  to  which  no  one  save  perhaps  Calhoun  would  listen.  In  1829  he 
was  a  member  of  the  Virginia  Constitutional  Convention  and  spoke  with  great 
eloquence.  In  1830  he  accepted  the  mission  to  Russia,  but  the  climate  soon 
drove  him  home.  There  was  considerable  scandal  caused  by  his  spending  a 
year  in  England,  and  yet  drawing  over  $20,000  in  salary  which  he  applied  to 
his  debts;  but  he  was  not  the  person  to  mind  criticism.  By  the  will  which 
was  sustained  by  the  courts,  his  slaves  were  emancipated.  Some  of  his  speeches 
were  published  during  his  life,  and  after  his  death  a  volume  of  his  "  Letters 
to  a  Young  Relative  "  appeared  (1834).  These  give  a  good  idea  of  his  varied 
culture  and  of  his  style,  which  is  singularly  racy  and  effective.  Probably  no 
other  man  of  modern  times  has  been  such  a  master  of  extemporized  invective, 
and  Randolph's  unique  powers  in  this  respect  were  enhanced  by  his  striking 
appearance  and  his  peculiarities.  He  was  six  feet  in  height,  very  slim,  odd 
in  dress,  and  most  effective  in  his  habit  of  shaking  and  pointing  his  long 
fingers  at  the  person  he  was  making  his  target.  The  selections  given  will 
illustrate  his  general  powers  of  sarcasm  ;  how  he  silenced  an  individual  will 
appear  from  the  following  :  A  gentleman  "  ventured  in  the  House  to  amend 
one  of  Randolph's  motions  on  military  matters.  The  rash  man  had  formerly 
been  a  watchmaker.  Randolph  looked  at  him  a  moment  ;  then,  pulling  out 
his  watch,  turned  its  face  toward  his  opponent,  and  asked  him  what  time  it 
was.  The  victim  told  him.  '  Sir,'  said  Randolph,  '  you  can  mend  my  watch, 
but  not  my  motions.  You  understand  tic-tics,  sir,  but  not  tac-tics.'  "  l  The 

1  From  the  paper  on  "John  Randolph  of  Roanoke"in  the  present  editor's 
"Southern  Statesmen  of  the  Old  Regime"  (1897). 


88  JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROANOKE 

speeches  of  Randolph  have  never  been  collected.  See  the  able  but  one-sided 
biography  of  him  by  Henry  Adams  in  the  "  American  Statesmen  "  series  (1882), 
and  the  life  by  H.  A.  Garland  (2  vols.  1850);  also  The  Century  Magazine, 
March,  1896.] 

.VAULTING  AMBITION1 

[FROM   "SPEECHES  OF  MR.  RANDOLPH  ON  THE  GREEK  QUESTION,"  ETC. 
WASHINGTON,  1824.] 

BUT,  sir,  we  have  not  done.  Not  satisfied  with  attempting  to 
support  the  Greeks,  one  world,  like  that  of  Pyrrhus  or  Alexander, 
is  not  sufficient  for  us.  We  have  yet  another  world  for  exploits  : 
we  are  to  operate  in  a  country  distant  from  us  80  degrees  of 
latitude,  and  only  accessible  by  a  circumnavigation  of  the  globe, 
and  to  sustain  which,  we  must  cover  the  Pacific  with  our  ships, 
and  the  tops  of  the  Andes  with  our  soldiers.  Do  gentlemen  seri 
ously  reflect  on  the  work  they  have  cut  out  for  us  ?  Why,  sir, 
these  projects  of  ambition  surpass  those  of  Bonaparte  himself. 

It  has  once  been  said,  of  the  dominions  of  the  King  of  Spain  — 
thank  God  !  it  can  no  longer  be  said  —  that  the  sun  never  set 
upon  them.  Sir,  the  sun  never  sets  on  ambition  like  this ;  they 
who  have  once  felt  its  scorpion  sting,  are  never  satisfied  with  a 
limit  less  than  the  circle  of  our  planet.  I  have  heard,  sir,  the 
late  corruscation  in  the  Heavens  attempted  to  be  accounted  for, 
by  the  return  of  the  Lunar  Cycle,  the  moon  having  got  back  into 
the  same  relative  position  in  which  she  was  nineteen  years  ago. 
However  this  may  be,  I  am  afraid,  sir,  that  she  exerts  too  potent 
an  influence  over  our  legislation,  or  will  have  done  so,  if  we  agree 
to  adopt  the  resolution  on  your  table.  I  think,  about  once  in 
seven  or  eight  years,  for  that  seems  to  be  the  term  of  political 
cycle,  we  may  calculate  upon  beholding  some  redoubted  champion 
—  like  him  who  prances  into  Westminster  Hall,  armed  cap-a-pie, 
like  Sir  Somebody  Dimock,  at  the  coronation  of  the  British  King, 
challenging  all  who  dispute  the  title  to  the  crown  —  coming  into 
this  House,  mounted  on  some  magnificent  project,  such  as  this. 

1  The  speech  from  which  this  extract  is  taken  was  delivered  in  the  House  of 
Representatives  on  January  24,  1824. 


VAULTING  AMBITION  89 

But,  sir,  I  never  expected,  that,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  (except 
Salem)  a  proposition  like  this  should  have  come  from  Boston.1 

Sir,  I  am  afraid,  that,  along  with  some  most  excellent  attributes 
and  qualities  —  the  love  of  liberty,  jury  trial,  the  writ  of  habeas 
corpus,  and  all  the  blessings  of  free  government,  we  have  derived 
from  our  Anglo  Saxon  ancestors,  we  have  got  not  a  little  of  their 
John  Bull,  or  rather  John  Bull  Dog  spirit  —  their  readiness  to 
fight  for  anybody,  and  on  any  occasion.  Sir,  England  has  been 
for  centuries  the  game  cock  of  Europe.  It  is  impossible  to  specify 
the  wars  in  which  she  has  been  engaged  for  contrary  purposes ; 
and  she  will  with  great  pleasure,  see  us  take  off  her  shoulders  the 
labor  of  preserving  the  balance  of  power.  We  find  her  fighting, 
now,  for  the  Queen  of  Hungary  —  then  for  her  inveterate  foe, 
the  King  of  Prussia  —  now  at  war  for  the  restoration  of  the  Bour 
bons —  and  now  on  the  eve  of  war  with  them  for  the  liberties  of 
Spain.  These  lines  on  the  subject,  were  never  more  applicable 
than  they  have  now  become  :  — 

"  Now  Europe's  balanced  —  neither  side  prevails  — 
For  nothing's  left  in  either  of  the  scales." 

If  we  pursue  the  same  policy,  we  must  travel  the  same  road, 
and  endure  the  same  burthens,  under  which  England  now  groans. 
But,  Mr.  R.  said,  glorious  as  such  a  design  might  be,  a  President 
of  the  United  States  would,  in  his  appreciation,  occupy  a  prouder 
place  in  history,  who,  when  he  retires  from  office,  can  say  to  the 
people  who  elected  him,  I  leave  you  without  a  debt,  than  if  he 
had  fought  as  many  pitched  battles  as  Caesar,  or  achieved  as 
many  naval  victories  as  Nelson.  And  what,  said  Mr.  R.,  is 
debt?  In  an  individual,  it  is  slavery.  It  is  slavery  of  the  worst 
sort,  surpassing  that  of  the  West  India  Islands,  for  it  enslaves  the 
mind,  as  well  as  it  enslaves  the  body ;  and  the  creature  who  can  be 
abject  enough  to  incur  and  to  submit  to  it,  receives  in  that  condition 
of  his  being  perhaps  an  adequate  punishment.  Of  course,  Mr.  R.  said, 
he  spoke  of  debt  with  the  exception  of  unavoidable  misfortune.  He 
spoke  of  debt  caused  by  mismanagement,  by  unwarrantable  gener 
osity,  by  being  generous  before  being  just.  Mr.  R.  knew  that  his 

1  Daniel  Webster  had  offered  a  resolution  for  sending  an  agent  to  Greece. 


9O  JOHN  RANDOLPH  OF  ROANOKE 

sentiment  was  ridiculed  by  Sheridan,  whose  lamentable  end  was  the 
best  commentary  upon  its  truth.  No,  sir.  Let  us  abandon  these 
projects.  Let  us  say  to  those  seven  millions  of  Greeks,  "We  de 
fended  ourselves,  when  we  were  but  three  millions,  against  a  power, ' 
in  comparison  with  which  the  Turk  is  but  as  a  lamb.  Go  and 
do  thou  likewise." 


INTERNAL  IMPROVEMENTS   AND    LOOSE 
CONSTRUCTIONS  * 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

BUT,  sir,  it  is  said  we  have  a  right  to  establish  post  offices  and 
post  roads,  and  we  have  a  right  to  regulate  commerce  between 
the  several  states  :  and  it  is  argued  that  "  to  regulate  "  commerce, 
is  to  prescribe  the  way  in  which  it  shall  be  carried  on  —  which 
gives,  by  a  liberal  construction,  the  power  to  construct  the  way, 
that  is,  the  roads  and  canals  on  which  it  is  to  be  carried  !  Sir, 
since  the  days  of  that  unfortunate  man,  of  the  German  coast, 
whose  name  was  originally  Fyerstein,  Anglicised  to  Firestone,  but 
got,  by  translation,  from  that  to  Flint,  from  Flint  to  Pierre-a-Fusil, 
and  from  Pierre-a-Fusil  to  Peter  Gun — never  was  greater  violence 
done  the  English  language,  than  by  the  construction,  that,  under 
the  power  to  prescribe  the  way  in  which  commerce  shall  be 
carried  on,  we  have  the  right  to  construct  the  way  on  which  it  is 
to  be  carried.  Are  gentlemen  aware  of  the  colossal  power  they 
are  giving  to  the  General  Government?  Sir,  I  am  afraid,  that 
that  ingenious  gentleman,  Mr.  McAdam,2  will  have  to  give  up  his 
title  to  the  distinction  of  the  Colossus  of  Roads,  and  surrender  it 
to  some  of  the  gentlemen  of  this  committee,  if  they  succeed  in 
their  efforts  on  this  occasion.  If,  indeed,  we  have  the  power 
which  is  contended  for  by  gentlemen  under  that  clause  of  the  con 
stitution  which  relates  to  the  regulation  of  commerce  among  the 
several  states,  we  may,  under  the  same  power,  prohibit  altogether, 

1  The   speech   on    Internal    Improvements    from  which   this  characteristically 
clever  extract  is  taken  was  delivered  in  the  House  on  January  31,  1824. 

2  John  Loudon  Macadam  (1756- 1836),  Scottish  road-maker. 


THE    QUALITIES   OF  A    CHIEF  91 

the  commerce  between  the  states,  or  any  portion  of  the  states  — 
or  we  may  declare  that  it  shall  be  carried  on  only  in  a  particular 
way,  by  a  particular  road,  or  through  a  particular  canal ;  or  we 
may  say  to  the  people  of  a  particular  district,  you  shall  only  carry 
your  produce  to  market  through  our  canals,  or  over  our  roads, 
and  then,  by  tolls,  imposed  upon  them,  we  may  acquire  power  to 
extend  the  same  blessings,  and  privileges,  to  other  districts  of  the 
country.  Nay,  we  may  go  further.  We  may  take  it  into  our 
heads.  Have  we  not  the  power  to  provide  and  maintain  a  navy? 
What  more  necessary  to  a  navy  than  seamen  to  man  it  ?  And 
the  great  nursery  of  our  seamen  is  (besides  fisheries)  the  coasting 
trade  —  we  may  take  it  into  our  heads,  that  those  monstrous  lum 
bering  wagons  that  now  traverse  the  country  between  Philadelphia 
and  Pittsburg,  stand  in  the  way  of  the  raising  of  seamen,  and  may 
declare  that  no  communication  shall  be  held  between  these  points 
but  coastwise  :  we  may  specify  some  particular  article  in  which 
alone  trade  shall  be  carried  on. 


THE   QUALITIES   OF  A  CHIEF 

[FROM  "SUBSTANCE  OF  A  SPEECH  OF  MR.  RANDOLPH  ON  RETRENCHMENT 
AND  REFORM,  DELIVERED  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  REPRESENTATIVES  OF  THE 
UNITED  STATES  ON  THE  FIRST  OF  FEBRUARY,  1828."  WASHINGTON, 
1828.] 

.  .  .  THE  talent  for  government  lies  in  these  two  things  —  sa 
gacity  to  perceive,  and  decision  to  act.  Genuine  statesmen  were 
never  made  such  by  mere  training ;  nascuntur  non  fiunt^ —  edu 
cation  will  form  good  business  men.  The  maxim  (nascitur  non 
fit)  is  as  true  of  statesmen  as  it  is  of  poets.  Let  a  house  be  on 
fire,  you  will  soon  see  in  that  confusion  who  has  the  talent  to  com 
mand.  Let  a  ship  be  in  danger  at  sea,  and  ordinary  subordination 
destroyed,  and  you  will  immediately  make  the  same  discovery. 
The  ascendency  of  mind  and  of  character  exists  and  rises  as 
naturally  and  as  inevitably,  where  there  is  free  play  for  it,  as 
material  bodies  find  their  level  by  gravitation.  Thus  a  great 

1  They  are  born,  not  made. 


92  JOHN  RANDOLPH   OF  ROANOKE 

logician,  like  a  certain  animal,  oscillating  between  the  hay  on 
different  sides  of  him,  wants  some  power  from  without,  before  he 
can  decide  from  which  bundle  to  make  trial.  Who  believes  that 
Washington  could  write  as  good  a  book  or  report  as  Jefferson,  or 
make  as  able  a  speech  as  Hamilton?  Who  is  there  that  believes 
that  Cromwell  would  have  made  as  good  a  Judge  as  Lord  Hale  ? 1 
No,  sir;  these  learned  and  accomplished  men  find  their  proper 
place  under  those  who  are  fitted  to  command,  and  to  command 
them  among  the  rest.  Such  a  man  as  Washington  will  say  to  a 
Jefferson,  do  you  become  my  Secretary  of  State  ;  to  Hamilton,  do 
you  take  charge  of  my  purse,  or  that  of  the  nation  which  is  the 
same  thing ;  and  to  Knox,2  do  you  be  my  master  of  the  horse. 
All  history  shows  this  :  but  great  logicians  and  great  scholars  are, 
for  that  very  reason,  unfit  to  be  rulers.  Would  Hannibal  have 
crossed  the  Alps  when  there  were  no  roads  —  with  elephants  —  in 
the  face  of  the  warlike  and  hardy  mountaineers — and  have  carried 
terror  to  the  very  gates  of  Rome,  if  his  youth  had  been  spent  in 
poring  over  books?  Would  he  have  been  able  to  maintain  him 
self  on  the  resources  of  his  own  genius  for  sixteen  years  in  Italy, 
in  spite  of  faction  and  treachery  in  the  Senate  of  Carthage,  if  he 
had  been  deep  in  conic  sections  and  fluxions,  and  the  differential 
calculus  —  to  say  nothing  of  botany,  and  mineralogy,  and  chemis 
try?  "Are  you  not  ashamed,"  said  a  philosopher  to  one  who  was 
born  to  rule,  "  are  you  not  ashamed  to  play  so  well  upon  the 
flute?  "  Sir,  it  was  well  put.  There  is  much  which  it  becomes  a 
secondary  man  to  know  —  much  that  it  is  necessary  for  him  to 
know,  that  a  first  rate  man  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  know.  No 
head  was  ever  clear  and  sound  that  was  stuffed  with  book  learning. 
You  might  as  well  attempt  to  fatten  and  strengthen  a  man  by 
stuffing  him  with  every  variety  and  the  greatest  quantity  of  food. 
After  all,  the  Chief  must  draw  upon  his  subalterns  for  much  that 
he  does  not  know,  and  cannot  perform  himself.  My  friend  Wm. 
R.  Johnson  has  many  a  groom  that  can  clean  and  dress  a  race 
horse,  and  ride  him  too,  better  than  he  can.  But  what  of  that? 
Sir,  we  are,  in  the  European  sense  of  the  term,  not  a  military 

l  Sir  Matthew  Hale  (1609-1676),  the  great  English  jurist. 

3  General  Henry  Knox  (1750-1806),  Washington's  Secretary  of  War. 


DR.  JOHN  SHA  W  93 

people.  We  have  no  business  for  an  army  —  it  hangs  as  a  dead 
weight  upon  the  nation  —  officers  and  all.  Sir,  all  that  we  hear  of  it 
is  through  pamphlets ;  indicating  a  spirit  that,  if  I  was  at  the  head 
of  affairs,  I  should  very  speedily  put  down.  A  state  of  things  that 
never  could  have  grown  up  under  a  man  of  decision  of  character 
at  the  head  of  the  State,  or  the  Department ;  a  man  possessing 
the  spirit  of  command ;  that  truest  of  all  tests  of  a  Chief,  whether 
military  or  civil.  Who  rescued  Braddock,  when  he  was  fighting, 
secundum  arfem^  and  his  men  were  dropping  around  him  on  every 
side?  It  was  a  Virginia  Militia  Major.  He  asserted  in  that  crisis 
the  place  which  properly  belonged  to  him,  and  which  he  afterwards 
filled  in  the  manner  we  all  know. 


DR.   JOHN   SHAW 

[JoHN  SHAW  was  born  at  Annapolis,  Maryland,  May  4, 1778,  and  died  at  sea, 
January  10,  1809.  He  became  a  physician,  served  as  a  surgeon  of  the  navy 
during  the  troubles  with  Algiers  (1798),  studied  later  at  Edinburgh,  lived  in 
Canada  and  Baltimore,  and  finally  died  on  a  voyage  to  the  Bahamas  under 
taken  for  his  health.  He  was  noted,  when  at  St.  John's  College  and  through 
out  the  rest  of  his  short  life,  for  his  versatility,  especially  in  the  languages,  and 
for  his  devotion  to  poetry.  The  long  biographical  sketch  prefixed  to  the  edi 
tion  of  his  poems  published  in  Philadelphia  in  1810  shows  him  to  have  been 
full  of  the  spirit  of  romantic  adventure  and  a  charming  companion.  His 
poems  show  him  to  have  possessed  much  more  than  the  talents  we  expect  to 
find  in  young  men  whose  posthumous  verses  are  published  by  admiring  friends. 
While  there  are  only  a  few  pieces  of  striking  merit,  and  while  the  poems  as  a 
whole  prove  that  their  author  belonged  to  a  transition  period,  being  neither 
wholly  of  the  eighteenth-century  school  nor  wholly  of  the  new  order,  they 
nevertheless  give  one  the  impression  that,  if  Shaw  had  lived,  he  would  have 
surpassed  many  of  his  contemporaries  who  made  names  for  themselves  in  the 
American  literature  of  their  day.  As  it  is,  he  belongs  with  Richard  Dabney, 
William  Maxwell,  and  William  Munford  of  Virginia  (the  translator  of  Homer), 
and  other  Southern  poets  of  the  early  nineteenth  century  whose  names  are 
known  chiefly  to  special  students.  He  should  be  remembered  in  connection 
with  another  Maryland  poet  who  died  young,  Edward  Coate  Pinkney  (q.v.}, 
and  as  a  poetical  translator  from  various  modern  languages  he  deserves  to  be 
noted  as  a  predecessor  of  Bryant  and  Longfellow.  Of  few  other  Americans 
1  I.e.  according  to  the  technical  rules  of  warfare. 


94  £>K-  JOHN  SHA  W 

of  that  day  could  it  have  been  said  with  even  the  slightest  approach  to  truth 
that  "  he  learned  all  the  European  polished  languages,  which  he  spoke  with 
fluency ;  he  taught  the  Arabian  poets  to  sing  in  English  numbers,  and  could 
hold  long  talks  with  the  Mohawks  of  Upper  Canada."] 


SONG 

[FROM  "  POEMS  BY  THE  LATE  DR.  JOHN  SHAW."     1810.] 

WHO  has  robb'd  the  ocean  cave, 

To  tinge  thy  lips  with  coral  hue  ? 
Who  from  India's  distant  wave, 

For  thee  those  pearly  treasures  drew  ? 
Who,  from  yonder  orient  sky, 
Stole  the  morning  of  thine  eye  ? 

Thousand  charms,  thy  form  to  deck, 

From  sea,  and  earth,  and  air  are  torn ; 
Roses  bloom  upon  thy  cheek, 

On  thy  breath  their  fragrance  borne. 
Guard  thy  bosom  from  the  day, 
Lest  thy  snows  should  melt  away. 

But  one  charm  remains  behind, 

Which  mute  earth  can  ne'er  impart ; 
Nor  in  ocean  wilt  thou  find, 
Nor  in  the  circling  air,  a  heart. 
Fairest  !  wouldst  thou  perfect  be, 
Take,  oh  take  that  heart  from  me. 


FRANCIS   SCOTT   KEY 

[FRANCIS  SCOTT  KEY,  of  a  distinguished  Maryland  family,  was  born  in 
Frederick  County,  August  9,  1780,  and  died  in  Baltimore,  January  n,  1843. 
He  was  educated  at  St.  John's  College,  and  studied  and  practised  law,  obtain 
ing  a  position  as  district  attorney  in  Washington.  During  the  British  invasion 
of  Maryland  in  1814  a  friend  of  Key  was  captured,  and  in  the  negotiations 
which  Key  undertook  for  his  release  he  was  compelled  to  witness  from  a  ves- 


THE  STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  95 

sel  the  attack  on  Fort  McHenry.  When  at  dawn  he  saw  that  the  stars  and 
stripes  still  floated,  he  composed  his  famous  poem,  jotting  down  portions  of  it 
on  the  back  of  a  letter.  It  was  speedily  printed  and  sung,  and  became  familiar 
throughout  the  country.  Lapse  of  time  has  not  caused  its  fame  to  diminish, 
though  doubtless  fewer  people  now  regard  it  as  worthy  of  high  praise  on 
account  of  its  strictly  poetic  merits.  A  collection  of  Key's  poems  was  pub 
lished  in  1857,  with  an  introductory  letter  by  Chief- Justice  Roger  B.  Taney, 
but  only  his  song  to  the  flag  has  commanded  special  attention.  See 
Tyler's  "Memoir  of  Roger  B.  Taney,"  pp.  109-119,  and,  for  the  different 
texts  of  the  song,  based  on  separate  versions  in  Key's  handwriting,  the  New 
England  Historical  and  Genealogical  Register,  XXVIII,  32-41.  Thirty  years 
after  the  appearance  of  Key's  volume  of  poems  a  large  monument,  executed 
by  the  poet-sculptor,  William  Wetmore  Story,  was  erected  to  him  in  Golden 
Gate  Park  in  San  Francisco.] 


THE   STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER1 

O  SAY,  can  you  see,  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 

What  so  proudly  we  hail'd  at  the  twilight's  last  gleaming, 
Whose  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars,  through  the  clouds  of  the  fight, 

O'er  the  ramparts  we  watched  were  so  gallantly  streaming? 
And  the  rocket's  red  glare,  the  bomb  bursting  in  air, 
Gave  proof  through  the  night  that  our  flag  was  still  there ; 
O  !  say,  does  that  star-spangled  banner  yet  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ? 

On  that  shore,  dimly  seen  through  the  mists  of  the  deep, 
Where  the  foe's  haughty  host  in  dread  silence  reposes, 

What  is  that,  which  the  breeze,  o'er  the  towering  steep 
As  it  fitfully  blows,  half  conceals,  half  discloses  ? 

Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam 

In  full  glory  reflected,  now  shines  in  the  stream  ; 

Tis  the  star-spangled  banner ;  O  !  long  may  it  wave 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ! 

And  where  are  the  foes  that  so  vauntingly  swore 
That  the  havoc  of  war  and  the  battle's  confusion 

1  The  text  is  a  somewhat  eclectic  one  in  regard  to  punctuation,  but  mainly 
follows  that  printed  in  the  New  England  Historical  and  Genealogical  Register ',  Vol. 
XXVIII,  pp.  40-41.  See  also  The  Century  Magazine  for  July,  1894. 


96  WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 

A  home  and  a  country  should  leave  us  no  more  ? 

Their  blood  has  wash'd  out  their  foul  footstep's  pollution. 
No  refuge  could  save  the  hireling  and  slave 
From  the  terror  of  flight,  or  the  gloom  of  the  grave ; 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

O,  thus  be  it  ever  !  when  freemen  shall  stand 

Between  their  lov'd  homes  and  the  war's  desolation  ! 
Blest  with  vict'ry  and  peace,  may  the  heav'n-rescued  land 

Praise  the  power  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation, 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just, 
And  this  be  our  motto  —  "In  God  is  our  trust:" 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 


WASHINGTON   ALLSTON 

[THIS  well-known  author  and  painter  might  be  legitimately  omitted  from 
a  volume  of  Southern  writers  on  the  ground  that  he  was  educated  and  for 
the  most  part  lived  in  New  England.  By  this  method  of  reasoning  the 
South  can  claim  Dr.  Ramsay  (q.v.}  and  Albert  Pike  (?.z>.),  as  well  as  other 
writers  born  in  New  England,  such  as  George  Denison  Prentice  (1802-1870), 
the  witty  Louisville  editor  and  the  author  of  many  popular  poems,  and  orators 
such  as  the  brilliant  Sergeant  Smith  Prentiss  (1808-1850),  who  won  great 
fame,  especially  in  Mississippi  and  the  Southwest.  To  open  up  this  question, 
however,  might  lead  to  a  discussion  of  the  South's  claims  to  Poe,  which  are 
essentially  legitimate,  and  there  can  be  little  objection  to  the  adoption  in  a 
book  like  the  present  of  fairly  flexible  canons  of  choice.  Washington  Allston, 
then,  is  included  here  because  he  was  born  in  Waccamaw,  South  Carolina, 
November  5,  1779.  He  died  in  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  where  he  had 
long  resided,  on  July  9,  1843.  When  six  years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  school 
in  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  and  then  he  studied  at  Harvard,  where  he  gradu 
ated  in  1800.  He  soon  went  abroad,  remaining  until  1809,  and  studying  the 
art  of  painting  in  England  and  Italy.  On  his  return  to  America  he  married 
a  sister  of  the  famous  Dr.  William  E.  Channing,  and  after  her  death  he  took 
as  his  second  wife  a  sister  of  the  poet  Richard  Henry  Dana,  thus  becoming 
connected  with  two  of  the  most  distinguished  New  England  families.  From 
1811  to  1818  he  lived  in  England,  where  he  practised  his  art  and  also  wrote 


AMERICA    TO    GREAT  BRITAIN  97 

poetry,  a  volume  of  which,  "The  Sylphs  of  the  Seasons,"  was  published  in 
London  in  1813.  After  his  return  to  New  England  he  painted  numerous 
pictures  specially  distinguished  for  their  coloring,  but  he  can  scarcely  be  said 
to  have  achieved  a  high  and  lasting  fame,  either  by  his  paintings  or  by  his 
writings,  such  as  his  later  poems,  which  were  published  in  1850  along  with 
his  "Lectures  on  Art,"  or  his  Italian  romance,  "  Monaldi,"  which  appeared 
in  1841.  As  a  poet,  Allston  was  somewhat  more  careful  in  his  workmanship 
than  contemporary  Americans  usually  were,  and  such  poems  as  "  The  Sylphs 
of  the  Seasons,"  "The  Paint-King,"  and  the  patriotic  ode  that  follows  are 
worthy  of  being  remembered  ;  but  it  can  scarcely  be  held  with  justice  that  he 
is  an  important  writer.  It  is  pleasant  to  remember,  however,  that  Allston 
was  charmingly  associated  with  a  very  great  writer.  He  was  a  friend  of 
Coleridge,  whose  portrait  he  painted,  and  "  America  to  Great  Britain  "  was 
printed  in  the  first  edition  of  Coleridge's  "  Sibylline  Leaves."  See  both  for 
Allston  and  for  glimpses  of  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  and  other  interesting  men, 
"The  Life  and  Letters  of  Washington  Allston,"  by  J.  B.  Flagg  (1892).  This 
book  has  a  chapter  on  Allston's  poems  and  reprints  several  of  them.] 


AMERICA  TO   GREAT  BRITAIN1 

[FROM    "LECTURES    ON    ART   AND    POEMS,    BY  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON." 
EDITED  BY  R.  H.  DANA,  JR.,  1850.] 

ALL  hail !  thou  noble  land, 
Our  Fathers'  native  soil ! 
Oh,  stretch  thy  mighty  hand, 

Gigantic  grown  by  toil, 
O'er  the  vast  Atlantic  wave  to  our  shore  ! 
For  thou  with  magic  might 
Canst  reach  to  where  the  light 
Of  Phoebus  travels  bright 
The  world  o'er  ! 

The  Genius  of  our  clime, 

From  his  pine-embattled  steep, 
Shall  hail  the  guest  sublime ; 

While  the  Tritons  of  the  deep 
With  their  conchs  the  kindred  league  shall  proclaim. 

1  Written  in  1810,  probably  under  the  influence  of  Campbell's  lyrics. 
H 


98  WASHING  TON  ALLS  TON 

Then  let  the  world  combine,  — 
O'er  the  main  our  naval  line 
Like  the  milky-way  shall  shine 
Bright  in  fame  ! 

Though  ages  long  have  past 

Since  our  Fathers  left  their  home, 
Their  pilot  in  the  blast,1 

O'er  untravelled  seas  to  roam, 
Yet  lives  the  blood  of  England  in  our  veins  ! 
And  shall  we  not  proclaim 
That  blood  of  honest  fame 
Which  no  tyranny  can  tame 
By  its  chains? 

While  the  language  free  and  bold 
Which  the  bard  of  Avon  sung, 
In  which  our  Milton  told 

How  the  vault  of  heaven  rung 
When  Satan,  blasted,  fell  with  his  host ;  — 
While  this,  with  reverence  meet, 
Ten  thousand  echoes  greet, 
From  rock  to  rock  repeat 
Round  our  coast ;  — 

While  the  manners,  while  the  arts, 

That  mould  a  nation's  soul, 
Still  cling  around  our  hearts,  — 

Between  let  Ocean  roll, 
Our  joint  communion  breaking  with  the  Sun  : 
Yet  still  from  either  beach 
The  voice  of  blood  shall  reach, 
More  audible  than  speech, 
"  We  are  One." 

1  The  poet  probably  meant  that  the  "  Fathers  "  were  much  at  the  mercy  of  the 
winds  during  their  voyage. 


JOHN  CALDWELL    CALHOUN  99 


JOHN   CALDWELL   CALHOUN 

[THE  greatest  Southern  expounder  of  the  Constitution  and  the  most  impor 
tant  Southern  statesman  after  the  generation  that  carried  through  the  Revo 
lution  was  born  in  Abbeville  District,  South  Carolina,  March  18,  1782,  and 
died  at  Washington,  March  31,  1850.  He  came  of  excellent  Scotch-Irish 
stock,  was  prepared  for  college  by  his  brother-in-law,  the  noted  Dr.  Wad- 
dell  (see  p.  1 1 6),  graduated  at  Yale,  studied  law  and  began  its  practice.  He 
was  soon  sent  to  the  legislature  of  South  Carolina,  and  his  fine  mind  and 
character  having  impressed  his  neighbors,  he  was  in  1811  elected  to  Congress, 
where  he  joined  with  Clay  and  other  leaders  of  the  new  generation  in  forcing 
President  Madison  into  the  War  of  1812.  After  the  war  he  took  great  interest 
in  tariff  and  other  legislation  that  tended  to  strengthen  the  general  govern 
ment,  thus  occupying  a  position  from  which  he  afterward  retreated.  From  1817 
till  1825  he  was  a  very  efficient  Secretary  of  War  under  Monroe.  In  1824,  in 
the  scramble  for  the  Presidency,  he  obtained  the  Vice-Presidency,  to  which  he 
was  again  elected  in  1828.  A  breach  with  Jackson,  owing  to  social  intrigues 
and  to  Calhoun's  attitude  toward  "  Old  Hickory "  during  the  Seminole 
campaign,  ruined  the  Carolinian's  chance  of  becoming  President.  As  Vice- 
President,  Calhoun  gave  great  thought  to  constitutional  questions  and  became 
the  exponent  of  the  strict  constructionist  or  states' -rights  school.  He  drew 
up  the  South  Carolina  "  Exposition  "  and  other  documents  connected  with 
the  Nullification  movement,  and,  resigning  his  Vice-Presidency  in  December, 
1832,  took  an  important  part  as  Senator  in  the  debates  of  1833,  his  chief 
antagonist  being  Daniel  Webster.  Calhoun's  position  with  regard  to  the 
right  of  a  state  to  nullify  a  law  believed  by  it  to  be  unconstitutional  was  not 
acceptable  even  to  many  Southerners  ;  but  few  persons  have  ever  denied 
that  he  defended  his  views  with  profound  powers  of  reasoning  and  subtle 
grasp  of  political  theory.  For  the  next  ten  years  Calhoun  held  with  Clay  and 
Webster  the  leadership  of  the'  Senate  during  its  most  brilliant  period,  deliver 
ing  weighty  speeches  upon  the  chief  topics  of  discussion,  but  scarcely  ranking 
strictly  as  a  party  leader,  since  he  was  rather  the  head  of  a  states' -rights 
group.  His  general  policy  may,  however,  be  denominated  Democratic,  since 
he  favored  economy  and  unrestricted  trade.  In  March,  1843,  he  retired  from 
the  Senate,  but  about  a  year  later  he  was  called  by  President  Tyler  to  be 
Secretary  of  State.  In  this  position  he  was  able  to  help  forward  the  annexa 
tion  of  Texas  ;  afterward  in  the  Senate  he  labored  to  effect  a  peaceful  solu 
tion  of  the  Oregon  question  and  to  avert  war  with  Mexico.  His  latter  years 
were  chiefly  occupied  in  resisting  the  endeavors  of  the  North  and  West  to 
close  to  slavery  the  newly  acquired  territory.  On  March  4,  1850,  a  fellow- 


100  JOHN  CALDWELL    CALHOUN 

Senator  read  a  great  speech  by  Calhoun  on  the  momentous  Compromise  of 
1850.  In  less  than  a  month  he  was  dead,  and  by  dying  he  was  spared  the 
painful  spectacle  of  the  next  decade  of  civil  strife.  For  Calhoun,  though  often 
accused  of  being  a  disunionist,  dearly  loved  the  Union,  and  advocated  his 
strict  constructionist  views,  not  merely  to  secure  the  South  what  he  believed 
to  be  her  rights,  but  also  to  preserve  the  Union  intact.  He  undertook  to  do 
more  than  was  humanly  possible ;  but  his  efforts  were  so  herculean  that  they 
demand  admiration.  As  a  man  he  was  above  reproach ;  as  a  statesman  full 
of  courage  and  resources ;  as  an  orator  dignified,  impressive,  and  not  lacking 
in  deep  passion ;  as  a  writer  clear  and  cogent ;  as  a  political  theorist  weighty 
and  acute.  In  his  last  years  he  wrote  two  political  treatises,  "  A  Disquisition 
on  Government "  and  "  A  Discourse  on  the  Constitution  and  Government  of 
the  United  States,"  which,  with  some  of  his  speeches,  give  him  rank  among 
the  most  subtle  of  political  writers.  No  one  has  surpassed  him  as  an  exposi 
tor  of  the  rights  of  minorities.  His  works  were  edited  in  six  volumes  by 
Richard  K.  Cralle  (1853-1854).  In  1900  Professor  J.  F.  Jameson  edited  a 
large  volume  of  his  letters  and  of  selected  letters  written  to  him.  The  inter 
est  of  the  correspondence  is  chiefly  political ;  but  some  of  the  letters,  especially 
those  to  his  daughter  Anna,  throw  light  on  the  statesman's  fine  private  char 
acter.  See  on  this  point  "  The  Private  Life  of  John  C.  Calhoun  "  by  Miss 
Mary  Bates  (1852).  There  are  biographies  by  J.  S.  Jenkins,  H.  von  Hoist 
("American  Statesmen"  series),  and,  latest  of  all,  by  Gustavus  M.  Pinckney.] 


"OURS   IS   A   FEDERAL   AND   NOT  A  NATIONAL 
GOVERNMENT" 

[FROM  "A  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CONSTITUTION  AND  GOVERNMENT  OF  THE 
UNITED  STATES."    "THE  WORKS  OF  JOHN  C.  CALHOUN,"  1854.    VOL.  I.] 

IF  we  turn  from  the  preamble  and  the  ratifications,  to  the  body 
of  the  constitution,  we  shall  find  that  it  furnishes  most  conclusive 
proof  that  the  government  is  federal,  and  not  national.  I  can 
discover  nothing,  in  any  portion  of  it,  which  gives  the  least 
countenance  to  the  opposite  conclusion.  On  the  contrary,  the 
instrument,  in  all  its  parts,  repels  it.  It  is,  throughout,  federal. 
It  everywhere  recognizes  the  existence  of  the  States,  and  invokes 
their  aid  to  carry  its  power  into  execution.  In  one  of  the  two 
houses  of  Congress,  the  members  are  elected  by  the  legislatures 
of  their  respective  States ;  and  in  the  other,  by  the  people  of  the 
several  States,  not  as  composing  mere  districts  of  one  great  com 
munity,  but  as  distinct  and  independent  communities.  General 


«  OURS  A  FEDERAL,  NOT  NATIONAL,  GOVERNMENT"     IOI 

Washington  vetoed  the  first  act  apportioning  the  members  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  among  the  several  States,  under  the 
first  census,  expressly  on  the  ground,  that  the  act  assumed  as  its 
basis,  the  former,  and  not  the  latter  construction.  The  President 
and  Vice-President  are  chosen  by  electors,  appointed  by  their 
respective  States ;  and,  finally,  the  Judges  are  appointed  by  the 
President  and  the  Senate ;  and,  of  course,  as  these  are  elected  by 
the  States,  they  are  appointed  through  their  agency. 

But,  however  strong  be  the  proofs  of  its  federal  character 
derived  from  this  source,  that  portion  which  provides  for  the 
amendment  of  the  constitution,  furnishes,  if  possible,  still  stronger. 
It  shows,  conclusively,  that  the  people  of  the  several  States  still 
retain  that  supreme  ultimate  power,  called  sovereignty; — the 
power  by  which  they  ordained  and  established  the  constitution ; 
and  which  can  rightfully  create,  modify,  amend,  or  abolish  it,  at 
its  pleasure.  Wherever  this  power  resides,  there  the  sovereignty 
is  to  be  found.  That  it  still  continues  to  exist  in  the  several 
States,  in  a  modified  form,  is  clearly  shown  by  the  fifth  article  of 
the  constitution,  which  provides  for  its  amendment.  By  its  pro 
visions,  Congress  may  propose  amendments,  on  its  own  authority, 
by  the  vote  of  two-thirds  of  both  houses  ;  or  it  may  be  compelled 
to  call  a  convention  to  propose  them,  by  two-thirds  of  the  legis 
latures  of  the  several  States  :  but,  in  either  case,  they  remain, 
when  thus  made,  mere  proposals  of  no  validity,  until  adopted  by 
three-fourths  of  the  States,  through  their  respective  legislatures ; 
or  by  conventions,  called  by  them,  for  the  purpose.  Thus  far,  the 
several  States,  in  ordaining  and  establishing  the  constitution, 
agreed,  for  their  mutual  convenience  and  advantage,  to  modify, 
by  compact,  their  high  sovereign  power  of  creating  and  establish 
ing  constitutions,  as  far  as  it  related  to  the  constitution  and  gov 
ernment  of  the  United  States.  I  say,  for  their  mutual  convenience 
and  advantage  ;  for  without  the  modification,  it  would  have  required 
the  separate  consent  of  all  the  States  of  the  Union  to  alter  or 
amend  their  constitutional  compact ;  in  like  manner  as  it  required 
the  consent  of  all  to  establish  it  between  them ;  and  to  obviate 
the  most  insuperable  difficulty  of  making  such  amendments  as 
time  and  experience  might  prove  to  be  necessary,  by  the  unani- 


102  JOHN  CALDWELL    CALHOUN 

mous  consent  of  all,  they  agreed  to  make  the  modification.  But 
that  they  did  not  intend,  by  this,  to  divest  themselves  of  the  high 
sovereign  right,  (a  right  which  they  still  retain,  notwithstanding 
the  modification,)  to  change  or  abolish  the  present  constitution  and 
government  at  their  pleasure,  cannot  be  doubted. 

THE  CONCLUSION   OF   CALHOUN'S   LAST   SPEECH1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.    VOL.  IV.] 

HAVING  now  shown  what  cannot  save  the  Union,  I  return  to  the 
question  with  which  I  commenced,  How  can  the  Union  be  saved? 
There  is  but  one  way  by  which  it  can  with  any  certainty ;  and  that 
is,  by  a  full  and  final  settlement,  on  the  principle  of  justice,  of  all 
the  questions  at  issue  between  the  two  sections.  The  South  asks 
for  justice,  simple  justice,  and  less  she  ought  not  to  take.  She  has 
no  compromise  to  offer,  but  the  constitution ;  and  no  concession 
or  surrender  to  make.  She  has  already  surrendered  so  much  that 
she  has  little  left  to  surrender.  Such  a  settlement  would  go  to  the 
root  of  the  evil,  and  remove  all  cause  of  discontent,  by  satisfying 
the  South,  she  could  remain  honorably  and  safely  in  the  Union, 
and  thereby  restore  the  harmony  and  fraternal  feelings  between 
the  sections,  which  existed  anterior  to  the  Missouri  agitation. 
Nothing  else  can,  with  any  certainty,  finally  and  forever  settle 
the  questions  at  issue,  terminate  agitation,  and  save  the  Union. 

But  can  this  be  done  ?  Yes,  easily ;  not  by  the  weaker  party, 
for  it  can  of  itself  do  nothing  —  not  even  protect  itself — but  by 
the  stronger.  The  North  has  only  to  will  it  to  accomplish  it  — 
to  do  justice  by  conceding  to  the  South  an  equal  right  in  the 
acquired  territory,  and  to  do  her  duty  by  causing  the  stipulations 
relative  to  fugitive  slaves  to  be  faithfully  fulfilled  —  to  cease  the 
agitation  of  the  slave  question,  and  to  provide  for  the  insertion  of  a 
provision  in  the  constitution,  by  an  amendment,  which  will  restore 
to  the  South,  in  substance,  the  power  she  possessed  of  protecting 

1  This  speech  on  the  slavery  question  in  the  debates  on  the  Compromise  of  1850 
was  read  from  proof-sheets  by  Senator  James  M.  Mason  of  Virginia,  Calhoun 
being  too  feeble  to  deliver  it.  The  next  day  he  made  a  few  remarks  in  answer  to 
Senator  Foote,  but  not  a  set  speech. 


THE    CONCLUSION  OF  CALHOUN'S  LAST  SPEECH        103 

herself,  before  the  equilibrium  between  the  sections  was  destroyed 
by  the  action  of  this  Government.  There  will  be  no  difficulty  in 
devising  such  a  provision  —  one  that  will  protect  the  South,  and 
which,  at  the  same  time,  will  improve  and  strengthen  the  Govern 
ment,  instead  of  impairing  and  weakening  it. 

But  will  the  North  agree  to  this  ?  It  is  for  her  to  answer  the 
question.  But,  I  will  say,  she  cannot  refuse,  if  she  has  half  the 
love  of  the  Union  which  she  professes  to  have,  or  without  justly 
exposing  herself  to  the  charge  that  her  love  of  power  and  aggran 
dizement  is  far  greater  than  her  love  of  the  Union.  At  all  events, 
the  responsibility  of  saving  the  Union  rests  on  the  North,  and  not 
on  the  South.  The  South  cannot  save  it  by  any  act  of  hers,  and 
the  North  may  save  it  without  any  sacrifice  whatever,  unless  to  do 
justice,  and  to  perform  her  duty  under  the  constitution,  should  be 
regarded  by  her  as  a  sacrifice. 

It  is  time,  Senators,  that  there  should  be  an  open  and  manly 
avowal  on  all  sides,  as  to  what  is  intended  to  be  done.  If  the 
question  is  not  now  settled,  it  is  uncertain  whether  it  ever  can 
hereafter  be ;  and  we,  as  the  representatives  of  the  States  of  this 
Union,  regarded  as  governments,  should  come  to  a  distinct  under 
standing  as  to  our  respective  views,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether 
the  great  questions  at  issue  can  be  settled  or  not.  If  you,  who 
represent  the  stronger  portion,  cannot  agree  to  settle  them  on  the 
broad  principle  of  justice  and  duty,  say  so ;  and  let  the  States  we 
both  represent  agree  to  separate  and  part  in  peace.  If  you  are 
unwilling  we  should  part  in  peace,  tell  us  so,  and  we  shall  know 
what  to  do,  when  you  reduce  the  question  to  submission  or  resist 
ance.  If  you  remain  silent,  you  will  compel  us  to  infer  by  your 
acts  what  you  intend.  In  that  case,  California  will  become  the 
test  question.  If  you  admit  her,  under  all  the  difficulties  that 
oppose  her  admission,  you  compel  us  to  infer  that  you  intend  to 
exclude  us  from  the  whole  of  the  acquired  territories,  with  the 
intention  of  destroying,  irretrievably,  the  equilibrium  between  the 
two  sections.  We  would  be  blind  not  to  perceive  in  that  case, 
that  your  real  objects  are  power  and  aggrandizement,  and  infatu 
ated  not  to  act  accordingly. 

I  have  now,  Senators,  done  my  duty  in  expressing  my  opinions 


IO4  DAVID   CROCKETT 

fully,  freely,  and  candidly,  on  this  solemn  occasion.  In  doing  so, 
I  have  been  governed  by  the  motives  which  have  governed  me  in 
all  the  stages  of  the  agitation  of  the  slavery  question  since  its  com 
mencement.  I  have  exerted  myself,  during  the  whole  period,  to 
arrest  it,  with  the  intention  of  saving  the  Union,  if  it  could  be 
done ;  and  if  it  could  not,  to  save  the  section  where  it  has 
pleased  Providence  to  cast  my  lot,  and  which  I  sincerely  believe 
has  justice  and  the  constitution  on  its  side.  Having  faithfully  done 
my  duty  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  both  to  the  Union  and  my  sec 
tion,  throughout  this  agitation,  I  shall  have  the  consolation,  let 
what  will  come,  that  I  am  free  from  all  responsibility. 


DAVID   CROCKETT 

[DAVID  CROCKETT,  the  son  of  a  Revolutionary  soldier  and  a  pioneer,  was 
born  in  Limestone,  Greene  County,  Tennessee,  August  17,  1786,  and  died  in 
the  massacre  of  the  survivors  of  the  Alamo,  March  6,  1836.  He  got  but  little 
schooling,  early  ran  away  from  home,  and  served  in  several  trades  in  Ten 
nessee,  Maryland,  and  Virginia.  Then  he  settled  down  at  home,  working  and 
learning  his  letters,  and  marrying  young.  He  removed  to  a  wild  region  in  the 
mountains  of  Tennessee,  became  a  noted  hunter,  fought  in  the  Creek  War  of 
1813,  and  later,  on  account  of  his  character  and  rough,  ready  talents,  was 
made  a  magistrate.  In  1821  he  won  his  way  into  the  legislature,  and,  after 
one  defeat,  into  Congress  in  1826.  He  lost  a  congressional  term  by  his  un 
willingness  to  submit  to  Jacksonian  autocracy,  but  soon  regained  his  seat. 
Then,  seeing  that  politics  afforded  little  chance  for  an  independent,  he  went  to 
Texas  to  fight  against  Mexico.  After  much  display  of  bravery  at  the  Alamo  he 
surrendered  with  five  companions,  but  all  were  massacred  by  the  orders  of  Santa 
Anna.  He  was  so  celebrated  for  his  exploits  and  his  eccentricities  that  a  book 
describing  them  was  issued  in  1833  ;  the  next  year,  in  order  to  defend  himself, 
he  published  an  authentic  autobiography,  which  is  one  of  the  most  racy  and 
amusing  books  of  its  time  and  kind.  He  also  wrote  a  political  diatribe  pur 
porting  to  be  a  sketch  of  Van  Buren  —  or  had  it  fathered  on  him  l  —  and  an 
account  of  a  tour  in  the  North  and  New  England  (1835).  Crockett's  motto  — 
"  Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead  "  —  is  a  good  summary  of  his  own  char 
acter.  There  are  biographies  of  Crockett  by  J.  S.  C.  Abbott  (1874)  and  by 
Edward  S.  Ellis  (1884).] 

1  Judge  Augustine  Smith  Clayton  (1783-1839)  of  Georgia  is  said  to  have  been 
the  real  author. 


CONCERNING  HIS  BOOK  1 05 


CONCERNING   HIS   BOOK 

[FROM   "NARRATIVE    OF   THE    LlFE    OF    DAVID    CROCKETT,"   ETC. 

PHILADELPHIA,  1834.] 

BUT  I  don't  know  of  any  thing  in  my  book  to  be  criticised  on 
by  honourable  men.  Is  it  on  my  spelling?  —  that's  not  my 
trade.  Is  it  on  my  grammar  ?  —  I  hadn't  time  to  learn  it,  and 
make  no  pretensions  to  it.  Is  it  on  the  order  and  arrangement 
of  my  book  ?  —  I  never  wrote  one  before,  and  never  read  very 
many ;  and,  of  course,  know  mighty  little  about  that.  Will  it 
be  on  the  authorship  of  the  book  ?  —  this  I  claim,  and  I'll  hang 
on  to  it,  like  a  wax  plaster.  The  whole  book  is  my  own,  and 
every  sentiment  and  sentence  in  it.  I  would  not  be  such  a  fool, 
or  knave  either,  as  to  deny  that  I  have  had  it  hastily  run  over 
by  a  friend  or  so,  and  that  some  little  alterations  have  been  made 
in  the  spelling  and  grammar ;  and  I  am  not  so  sure  that  it  is  not 
the  worse  of  even  that,  for  I  despise  this  way  of  spelling  contrary 
to  nature.  And  as  for  grammar,  it's  pretty  much  a  thing  of  noth 
ing  at  last,  after  all  the  fuss  that's  made  about  it.  In  some  places, 
I  wouldn't  suffer  either  the  spelling,  or  grammar,  or  any  thing 
else  to  be  touch 'd  ;  and  therefore  it  will  be  found  in  my  own 
way. 

But  if  any  body  complains  that  I  have  had  it  looked  over,  I 
can  only  say  to  him,  her,  or  them  —  as  the  case  may  be  —  that 
while  critics  were  learning  grammar,  and  learning  to  spell,  I,  and 
"  Doctor  Jackson,  L.  L.  D."1  were  fighting  in  the  wars;  and  if 
our  books,  and  messages,  and  proclamations,  and  cabinet  writ 
ings,  and  so  forth,  and  so  on,  should  need  a  little  looking  over, 
and  a  little  correcting  of  the  spelling  and  the  grammar  to  make 
them  fit  for  use,  it's  just  nobody's  business.  Big  men  have  more 
important  matters  to  attend  to  than  crossing  their  /'s — ,  and 
dotting  their  z's  — ,  and  such  like  small  things.  But  the  "  Gov 
ernment's  "  name  is  to  the  proclamation,  and  my  name's  to  the 
book ;  and  if  I  didn't  write  the  book,  the  "  Government "  didn't 
write  the  proclamation,  which  no  man  dares  to  deny  ! 

1  Harvard's  giving  this  degree  to  "  Old  Hickory  "  caused  much  comment. 


106  DAVID   CROCKETT 

But  just  read  for  yourself,  and  my  ears  for  a  heel-tap,  if  before 
you  get  through  you  don't  say,  with  many  a  good-natured  smile 
and  hearty  laugh,  "  This  is  truly  the  very  thing  itself —  the  exact 
image  of  its  author,  David  Crockett." 


A   BACKWOODS  MAGISTRATE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  WAS  appointed  one  of  the  magistrates ;  and  when  a  man  owed 
a  debt,  and  wouldn't  pay  it,  I  and  my  constable  ordered  our  war 
rant,  and  then  he  would  take  the  man,  and  bring  him  before  me 
for  trial.  I  would  give  judgment  against  him,  and  then  an  order 
for  an  execution  would  easily  scare  the  debt  out  of  him.  If  any 
one  was  charged  with  marking  his  neighbor's  hogs,  or  with  steal 
ing  any  thing,  which  happened  pretty  often  in  those  days,  —  I 
would  have  him  taken,  and  if  there  was  tolerable  grounds  for 
the  charge,  I  would  have  him  well  whip'd  and  cleared.  We 
kept  this  up  till  our  Legislature  added  us  to  the  white  settlements 
in  Giles  county  ;  and  appointed  magistrates  by  law,  to  organize 
matters  in  the  parts  where  I  lived.  They  appointed  nearly  every 
man  a  magistrate  who  had  belonged  to  our  corporation.  I  was 
then,  of  course,  made  a  squire,  according  to  law  ;  though  now  the 
honor  rested  more  heavily  on  me  than  before.  For,  at  first, 
whenever  I  told  my  constable,  says  I  —  "  Catch  that  fellow,  and 
bring  him  up  for  trial "  —  away  he  went,  and  the  fellow  must 
come,  dead  or  alive ;  for  we  considered  this  a  good  warrant, 
though  it  was  only  in  verbal  writing.  But  after  I  was  appointed 
by  the  assembly,  they  told  me,  my  warrants  must  be  in  real  writing, 
and  signed  ;  and  that  I  must  keep  a  book,  and  write  my  proceed 
ings  in  it.  This  was  a  hard  business  on  me,  for  I  could  just 
barely  write  my  own  name  ;  but  to  do  this,  and  write  the  war 
rants  too,  was  at  least  a  huckleberry  over  my  persimmon.  I  had 
a  pretty  well  informed  constable,  however  ;  and  he  aided  me  very 
much  in  this  business.  Indeed  I  had  so  much  confidence  in 
him,  that  I  told  him,  when  we  should  happen  to  be  out  any 
where,  and  see  that  a  warrant  was  necessary,  and  would  have  a 


KILLING  A   BEAR  IO/ 

good  effect,  he  needn't  take  the  trouble  to  come  all  the  way  to 
me  to  get  one,  but  he  could  just  fill  out  one  ;  and  then  on  the 
trial  I  could  correct  the  whole  business  if  he  had  committed  any 
error.  In  this  way  I  got  on  pretty  well,  till  by  care  and  attention 
I  improved  my  handwriting  in  such  manner  as  to  be  able  to 
prepare  my  warrants,  and  keep  my  record  book,  without  much 
difficulty.  My  judgments  were  never  appealed  from,  and  if  they 
had  been,  they  would  have  stuck  like  wax,  as  I  gave  my  decisions 
on  the  principles  of  common  justice  and  honesty  between  man 
and  man,  and  relied  on  natural  born  sense,  and  not  on  law  learn 
ing  to  guide  me  ;  for  I  had  never  read  a  page  in  a  law  book  in 
all  my  life. 

KILLING  A  BEAR1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  COULD  see  the  lump,  but  not  plain  enough  to  shoot  with  any 
certainty,  as  there  was  no  moonlight ;  and  so  I  set  in  to  hunting 
for  some  dry  brush  to  make  me  a  light ;  but  I  could  find  none, 
though  I  could  find  that  the  ground  was  torn  mightily  to  pieces 
by  the  cracks.2 

At  last  I  thought  I  could  shoot  by  guess,  and  kill  him  ;  so  I 
pointed  as  near  the  lump  as  I  could,  and  fired  away.  But  the 
bear  didn't  come ;  he  only  clomb  up  higher,  and  got  out  on  a 
limb,  which  helped  me  to  see  him  better.  I  now  loaded  up 
again  and  fired,  but  this  time  he  didn't  move  at  all.  I  com 
menced  loading  for  a  third  fire,  but  the  first  thing  I  knowed,  the 
bear  was  down  among  my  dogs,  and  they  were  fighting  all  around 
me.  I  had  my  big  butcher  in  my  belt,  and  I  had  a  pair  of 
dressed  buckskin  breeches  on.  So  I  took  out  my  knife,  and 
stood,  determined,  if  he  should  get  hold  of  me,  to  defend 
myself  in  the  best  way  I  could.  I  stood  there  for  some  time, 
and  could  now  and  then  see  a  white  dog  I  had,  but  the  rest  of 
them,  and  the  bear,  which  were  dark  coloured,  I  couldn't  see 

1  His  dogs  had  treed  a  bear  "  in  a  large  forked  poplar,  and  it  was  sitting  in  the 
fork." 

2  Made  by  earthquakes. 


108  DAVID   CROCKETT 

at  all,  it  was  so  miserable  dark.  They  still  fought  around  me, 
and  sometimes  within  three  feet  of  me  ;  but,  at  last,  the  bear  got 
down  into  one  of  the  cracks,  that  the  earthquakes  had  made  in 
the  ground,  about  four  feet  deep,  and  I  could  tell  the  biting  end 
of  him  by  the  hollering  of  my  dogs.  So  I  took  my  gun  and 
pushed  the  muzzle  of  it  about,  till  I  thought  I  had  it  against  the 
main  part  of  his  body,  and  fired ;  but  it  happened  to  be  only  the 
fleshy  part  of  his  foreleg.  With  this,  he  jumped  out  of  the  crack, 
and  he  and  the  dogs  had  another  hard  fight  around  me,  as 
before.  At  last,  however,  they  forced  him  back  into  the  crack 
again,  as  he  was  when  I  had  shot. 

I  had  laid  down  my  gun  in  the  dark,  and  I  now  began  to  hunt 
for  it ;  and,  while  hunting,  I  got  hold  of  a  pole,  and  I  concluded 
I  would  punch  him  awhile  with  that.  I  did  so,  and  when  I 
would  punch  him,  the  dogs  would  jump  in  on  him,  when  he  would 
bite  them  badly,  and  they  would  jump  out  again.  I  concluded, 
as  he  would  take  punching  so  patiently,  it  might  be  that  he 
would  lie  still  enough  for  me  to  get  down  in  the  crack,  and  feel 
slowly  along  till  I  could  find  the. right  place  to  give  him  a  dig 
with  my  butcher.  So  I  got  down,  and  my  dogs  got  in  before 
him  and  kept  his  head  towards  them,  till  I  got  along  easily  up 
to  him  ;  and  placing  my  hand  on  his  rump,  felt  for  his  shoulder, 
just  behind  which  I  intended  to  stick  him.  I  made  a  lunge 
with  my  long  knife,  and  fortunately  stuck  him  right  through  the 
heart ;  at  which  he  just  sank  down,  and  I  crawled  out  in  a  hurry. 
In  a  little  time  my  dogs  all  come  out  too,  and  seemed  satisfied, 
which  was  the  way  they  always  had  of  telling  me  that  they  had 
finished  him. 


CROCKETT  DEFEATED  FOR  CONGRESS 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

...  I  WAS  re-elected  to  Congress,  in  1829,  by  an  overwhelm 
ing  majority ;  and  soon  after  the  commencement  of  this  second 
term,  I  saw,  or  thought  I  did,  that  it  was  expected  of  me  that  I 
would  bow  to  the  name  of  Andrew  Jackson,  and  follow  him  in 


CROCKETT  DEFEATED  FOR   CONGRESS  109 

all  his  motions,  and  mindings,1  and  turnings,  even  at  the  expense 
of  my  conscience  and  judgment.  Such  a  thing  was  new  to  me, 
and  a  total  stranger  to  my  principles.  I  know'd  well  enough, 
though,  that  if  I  didn't  "  hurra  "  for  his  name,  the  hue  and  cry 
was  to  be  raised  against  me,  and  I  was  to  be  sacrificed,  if  pos 
sible.  His  famous,  or  rather  I  should  say  his  in-famous,  Indian 
bill  was  brought  forward,2  and  I  opposed  it  from  the  purest 
motives  in  the  world.  Several  of  my  colleagues  got  around  me, 
and  told  me  how  well  they  loved  me,  and  that  I  was  ruining 
myself.  They  said  this  was  a  favorite  measure  of  the  president, 
and  I  ought  to  go  for  it.  I  told  them  I  believed  it  was  a  wicked, 
unjust  measure,  and  that  I  should  go  against  it,  let  the  cost  to 
myself  be  what  it  might ;  that  I  was  willing  to  go  with  General 
Jackson  in  every  thing  that  I  believed  was  honest  and  right ; 
but,  further  than  this,  I  wouldn't  go  for  him,  or  any  other  man 
in  the  whole  creation ;  that  I  would  sooner  be  honestly  and 
politically  d — nd,  than  hypocritically  immortalized.  I  had  been 
elected  by  a  majority  of  three  thousand  five  hundred  and  eighty- 
five  votes,  and  I  believed  they  were  honest  men,  and  wouldn't 
want  me  to  vote  for  any  unjust  motion,  to  please  Jackson  or  any 
one  else ;  at  any  rate,  I  was  of  age,  and  was  determined  to  trust 
them.  I  voted  against  this  Indian  bill,  and  my  conscience  yet 
tells  me  that  I  gave  a  good  honest  vote,  and  one  that  I  believe 
will  not  make  me  ashamed  in  the  day  of  judgment.  I  served 
out  my  term,  and  though  many  amusing  things  happened,  I  am 
not  disposed  to  swell  my  narrative  by  inserting  them. 

When  it  closed,  and  I  returned  home,  I  found  the  storm  had 
raised  against  me  sure  enough ;  and  it  was  echoed  from  side 
to  side,  and  from  end  to  end  of  my  district,  that  I  had  turned 
against  Jackson.  This  was  considered  the  unpardonable  sin. 
I  was  hunted  down  like  a  wild  varment,  and  in  this  hunt  every 
little  newspaper  in  the  district,  and  every  little  pin-hook  lawyer 
was  engaged.  Indeed,  they  were  ready  to  print  any  thing  and 

1  This  is  the  reading  of  the  first  edition,  which  has  been  followed  except  for  the 
correction  of  two  plain  errors. 

2  Jackson's  policy  was  to  get  the  Indians  out  of  Georgia  and  the  Southwest  and 
to  remove  them  beyond  the  Mississippi  to  Indian  Territory. 


HO  DAVID   CROCKETT 

every  thing  that  the  ingenuity  of  man  could  invent  against  me. 
Each  editor  was  furnished  with  the  journals  of  Congress  from 
headquarters ;  and  hunted  out  every  vote  I  had  missed  in  four 
sessions,  whether  from  sickness  or  not,  no  matter ;  and  each 
one  was  charged  against  me  at  eight  dollars.  In  all  I  had 
missed  about  seventy  votes,  which  they  made  amount  to  five  hun 
dred  and  sixty  dollars ;  and  they  contended  I  had  swindled 
the  government  out  of  this  sum,  as  I  received  my  pay,  as  other 
members  do.  I  was  now  again  a  candidate  in  1830,  while  all 
the  attempts  were  making  against  me ;  and  every  one  of  these 
little  papers  kept  up  a  constant  war  on  me,  fighting  with  every 
scurrilous  report  they  could  catch. 

Over  all  I  should  have  been  elected,  if  it  hadn't  been,  that 
but  a  few  weeks  before  the  election,  the  little  four-pence-ha'penny 
limbs  of  the  law  fell  on  a  plan  to  defeat  me,  which  had  the 
desired  effect.  They  agreed  to  spread  out  over  the  district,  and 
make  appointments  for  me  to  speak,  almost  everywhere,  to  clear 
up  the  Jackson  question.  They  would  give  me  no  notice  of 
these  appointments,  and  the  people  would  meet  in  great  crowds 
to  hear  what  excuse  Crockett  had  to  make  for  quitting  Jackson. 

But  instead  of  Crockett's  being  there,  this  small-fry  of  lawyers 
would  be  there,  with  their  saddle-bags  full  of  the  little  news 
papers  and  their  journals  of  Congress ;  and  would  get  up  and 
speak,  and  read  their  scurrilous  attacks  on  me,  and  would  then 
tell  the  people  that  I  was  afraid  to  attend ;  and  in  this  way 
would  turn  many  against  me.  All  this  intrigue  was  kept  a  pro 
found  secret  from  me,  till  it  was  too  late  to  counteract  it ;  and 
when  the  election  came,  I  had  a  majority  in  seventeen  counties, 
putting  all  their  votes  together,  but  the  eighteenth  beat  me ; 
and  so  I  was  left  out  of  Congress  during  those  two  years.  The 
people  of  my  district  were  induced,  by  these  tricks,  to  take  a 
stay  on  me  for  that  time ;  but  they  have  since  found  out  that 
they  were  imposed  on,  and  on  re-considering  my  case,  have 
reversed  that  decision  ;  which,  as  the  Dutchman  said,  "is  as 
fair  a  ding  as  eber  was."  .  .  . 


BEVERLEY  TUCKER  in 


BEVERLEY  TUCKER 

[NATHANIEL  BEVERLEY  TUCKER,  second  son  of  St.  George  Tucker  (^.^.)» 
was  born  at  Williamsburg,  Virginia,  September  6, 1784,  and  died  at  Winchester, 
Virginia,  August  26, 1851.  He  graduated  at  William  and  Mary,  and,  following 
his  father's  footsteps,  became  a  judge  and,  from  1834,  professor  of  law  in  his  alma 
mater.  His  judgeship  was  held  in  Missouri,  where  he  resided  from  1815  to  1830. 
He  was  a  man  of  great  ability  and  an  intense  upholder  of  Virginian  and  South 
ern  political  and  social  ideals.  He  was,  however,  more  than  a  learned  lawyer, 
political  theorist,  and  sociologist;  he  was  a  writer  of  readable  fiction,  a  man 
of  wide  culture,  and  an  accomplished  correspondent.  His  best-known  work 
is  "The  Partisan  Leader,"  a  story  purporting  to  deal  with  the  events  of  a 
revolution  which  in  1849  took  Virginia  out  of  the  United  States  and  added 
her  to  the  Southern  Confederacy.  This  book  was  published  in  1836,  but  it  was 
dated  1856,  so  that  it  should  seem  to  be  a  historical  romance  dealing  with 
events  that  took  place  a  few  years  before.  It  is  said  to  have  been  printed 
secretly  and  suppressed.  In  the  first  year  of  the  Civil  War  it  was  reissued  in 
New  York,  in  facsimile,  with  the  added  title  "  A  Key  to  the  Disunion  Con 
spiracy,"  and  was  again  suppressed.  The  following  year,  1862,  it  was  reprinted 
in  Richmond  under  the  editorship  of  the  Rev.  T.  A.  Ware.  It  has  generally  been 
considered  a  remarkable  prophecy  of  the  course  the  South  actually  took  be 
tween  1836  and  1861,  and,  in  the  large,  this  view  of  the  book  is  true  enough. 
It  is  equally  true,  however,  that  in  important  particulars,  such  as  the  tyranny 
established  by  Van  Buren  over  the  North,  Judge  Tucker's  prejudices  misled 
him,  and  that  in  one  important  feature  his  book  looked  back  to  the  past 
rather  than  on  to  the  future.  In  all  the  military  details  of  his  story,  as  indeed 
its  title  implies,  his  imagination  moves  rather  in  the  times  of  Marion  and 
Sumter  than  in  those  of  Lee  and  Jackson.  The  magnitude  of  the  actual  war 
in  his  beloved  state  seems  not  to  have  been  foreseen  by  him.  Still  the  romance 
is  certainly  a  striking  one  in  conception  and  worthy  of  fair  praise  for  its  exe 
cution,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  a  large  portion  of  its  two  volumes  is  occupied 
with  explaining  the  events  that  led  up  to  the  situation  described  in  the  open 
ing  chapter.  Judge  Tucker's  other  novel,  "  George  Balcombe,"  based  on  his 
experiences  in  Missouri  (1836),  was  praised  by  Poe,  with  whom,  when  the 
young  poet  was  editor  of  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  the  older 
writer  corresponded.  Another  Southern  man  of  letters  who  received  many 
letters  from  Judge  Tucker  was  William  Gilmore  Simms,  to  whose  Southern 
Quarterly  Review  the  Virginian  contributed.  Some  of  this  correspondence  will 
be  found  in  the  present  editor's  biography  of  Simms  in  the  "  American  Men 
of  Letters."  Judge  Tucker's  legal  and  other  writings  need  not  be  enumer- 


112  BEVERLEY  TUCKER 

ated;  but  it  should  be  mentioned  that  he  began  a  biography  of  his  famous 
half-brother,  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke,  which  unfortunately  was  never 
finished,  and  that  he  wrote  for  Simms's  review  (Vol.  XX)  a  scathing  article 
on  H.  A.  Garland's  biography  of  the  eccentric  statesman.] 


PARTISANS   ON   THE   ALERT 

[FROM  "THE  PARTISAN  LEADER:  A  TALE  OF  THE  FUTURE,  BY  EDWARD 
WILLIAM  SIDNEY.  « Sic  SEMPER  TYRANNIS,'  THE  MOTTO  OF  VIRGINIA  ; 
'PARS  Fui,'  .  .  .  VIRGIL.  IN  Two  VOLUMES.  PRINTED  FOR  THE  PUB 
LISHERS,  BY  JAMES  CAXTON,  1856."  NEW  YORK,  1861.] 

TOWARD  the  latter  end  of  the  month  of  October,  1849,  about 
the  hour  of  noon,  a  horseman  was  seen  ascending  a  narrow  valley 
at  the  eastern  foot  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  His  road  nearly  followed 
the  course  of  a  small  stream,  which,  issuing  from  a  deep  gorge  of 
the  mountain,  winds  its  way  between  lofty  hills,  and  terminates  its 
brief  and  brawling  course  in  one  of  the  larger  tributaries  of  the 
Dan.  A  glance  of  the  eye  took  in  the  whole  of  the  little  settle 
ment  that  lined  its  banks,  and  measured  the  resources  of  its  in 
habitants.  The  different  tenements  were  so  near  to  each  other  as 
to  allow  but  a  small  patch  of  arable  land  to  each.  Of  manufactures 
there  was  no  appearance,  save  only  a  rude  shed  at  the  entrance  of 
the  valley,  on  the  door  of  which  the  oft  repeated  brand  of  the 
horse-shoe  gave  token  of  a  smithy.  There  too  the  rivulet,  increased 
by  the  innumerable  springs  which  afforded  to  every  habitation  the 
unappreciated,  but  inappreciable  luxury  of  water,  cold,  clear,  and 
sparkling,  had  gathered  strength  enough  to  turn  a  tiny  mill.  Of 
trade  there  could  be  none.  The  bleak  and  rugged  barrier,  which 
closed  the  scene  on  the  west,  and  the  narrow  road,  fading  to  a 
foot-path,  gave  assurance  to  the  traveller  that  he  had  here  reached 
the  ne  plus  ultra  of  social  life  in  that  direction. 

Indeed,  the  appearance  of  discomfort  and  poverty  in  every 
dwelling  well  accorded  with  the  scanty  territory  belonging  to  each. 
The  walls  and  chimneys  of  unhewn  logs,  the  roofs  of  loose  boards 
laid  on  long  rib-poles,  that  projected  from  the  gables,  and  held 
down  by  similar  poles  placed  above  them,  together  with  the 


PARTISANS   ON   THE  ALERT  113 

smoked  and  sooty  appearance  of  the  whole,  betokened  an  abun 
dance  of  timber,  but  a  dearth  of  everything  else.  Contiguous  to 
each  was  a  sort  of  rude  garden,  denominated,  in  the  ruder  lan 
guage  of  the  country  a  "truck-patch."  Beyond  this  lay  a  small 
field,  a  part  of  which  had  produced  a  crop  of  oats,  while  on  the 
remainder  the  Indian  corn  still  hung  on  the  stalk,  waiting  to  be 
gathered.  Add  to  this  a  small  meadow,  and  the  reader  will  have 
an  outline  equally  descriptive  of  each  of  the  little  farms  which, 
for  the  distance  of  three  miles,  bordered  the  stream. 

But,  though  the  valley  thus  bore  the  marks  of  a  crowded  popu 
lation,  a  deep  stillness  pervaded  it.  The  visible  signs  of  life  were 
few.  Of  sounds  there  were  none.  A  solitary  youngster,  male  or 
female,  alone  was  seen  loitering  about  every  door.  These,  as  the 
traveller  passed  along,  would  skulk  from  observation,  •  and  then 
steal  out,  and,  mounting  a  fence,  indulge  their  curiosity,  at  safe 
distances,  by  looking  after  him. 

At  length  he  heard  a  sound  of  voices,  and  then  a  shrill  whistle, 
and  all  was  still.  Immediately,  some  half  a  dozen  men,  leaping  a 
fence,  ranged  themselves  across  the  road  and  faced  him.  He 
observed  that  each,  as  he  touched  the  ground,  laid  hold  of  a  rifle 
that  leaned  against  the  enclosure,  and  this  circumstance  drew  his 
attention  to  twenty  or  more  of  these  formidable  weapons,  ranged 
along  in  the  same  position.  The  first  impulse  of  the  traveller  was 
to  draw  a  pistol ;  but  seeing  that  the  men,  as  they  posted  them 
selves,  rested  their  guns  upon  the  ground  and  leaned  upon  them, 
he  quietly  withdrew  his  hand  from  his  holster.  It  was  plain  that 
no  violence  was  intended,  and  that  this  movement  was  nothing 
but  a  measure  of  precaution,  such  as  the  unsettled  condition  of 
the  country  required.  He  therefore  advanced  steadily  but  slowly, 
and,  on  reaching  the  party,  reined  in  his  horse,  and  silently  in 
vited  the  intended  parley. 

The  men,  though  somewhat  variously  attired,  were  all  chiefly 
clad  in  half-dressed  buck-skin.  They  seemed  to  have  been  en 
gaged  in  gathering  corn  in  the  adjoining  field.  Their  companions, 
who  still  continued  the  same  occupation,  seemed  numerous  enough 
(including  women  and  boys,  of  both  of  which  there  was  a  full 
proportion,)  to  have  secured  the  little  crop  in  a  few  hours.  Indeed, 


114  BEVERLEY  TUCKER 

it  would  seem  that  the  whole  working  population  of  the  neighbor 
hood,  both  male  and  female,  was  assembled  there. 

As  the  traveller  drew  up  his  horse,  one  of  the  men,  speaking  in 
a  low  and  quiet  tone,  said,  "  We  want  a  word  with  you,  stranger, 
before  you  go  any  farther." l 


AN  UNFLATTERING  DESCRIPTION   OF  VAN   BUREN 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

ON  the  evening  of  the  third  day  from  that  of  which  I  have  just 
been  speaking,  the  President  of  the  United  States  was  sitting  alone 
in  a  small  room  in  his  palace,  which,  in  conformity  to  the  nomen 
clature  of  foreign  courts,  it  had  become  the  fashion  to  call  his 
closet.  The  furniture  of  this  little  apartment  was  characterized  at 
once  by  neatness,  taste,  and  convenience.  Without  being  splen 
did,  it  was  rich  and  costly ;  and,  in  its  structure  and  arrangement, 
adapted  to  the  use  of  a  man,  who,  devoted  to  business,  yet  loved 
his  ease.2  The  weariness  of  sedentary  application  was  relieved  by 
the  most  tasteful  and  commodious  variety  of  chairs,  couches,  and 
sofas,  while  the  utmost  ingenuity  was  displayed  in  the  construc 
tion  of  desks,  tables,  and  other  conveniences  for  reading  and 
writing.  In  the  appearance  of  the  distinguished  personage,  to 
whose  privacy  I  have  introduced  the  reader,  there  was  a  mixture 
of  thought  and  carelessness  very  much  in  character  with  the  imple 
ments  of  business  and  the  appliances  for  ease  and  comfort  which 
surrounded  him.  He  occasionally  looked  at  his  watch,  and  at  the 
door,  with  the  countenance  of  one  who  expects  a  visitor  ;  and  then 
throwing  himself  against  the  arm  of  his  sofa,  resumed  his  disen 
gaged  air.  That  something  was  on  his  mind  was  apparent.  But, 
interesting  as  the  subject  might  be,  it  did  not  seem  to  touch  him 
nearly.  His  whole  manner  was  that  of  a  man  who  is  somewhat  at 
a  loss  to  know  what  may  be  best  for  others,  but  finds  full  consola 
tion  in  knowing  precisely  what  is  best  for  himself. 

As  the  events  of  the  last  ten  years  make  it  probable  that  none 

1  This  selection  gives  the  opening  pages  of  the  story. 

2  Van  Buren  was  represented  by  his  opponents  as  a  man  greatly  given  to  luxury. 


AN  UNFLATTERING  DESCRIPTION  OF  VAN  BUREN    115 

of  my  younger  readers  have  ever  seen  the  august  dignitary  of 
whom  I  speak,  and  as  few  of  us  are  like  to  have  occasion  to  see 
him  in  future,  a  particular  description  of  his  person  may  not  be 
unacceptable.  Though  far  advanced  in  life,  he  was  tastily  and 
even  daintily  dressed,  his  whole  costume  being  exactly  adapted 
to  a  diminutive  and  dapper  person,  a  fair  complexion,  a  light  and 
brilliant  blue  eye,  and  a  head  which  might  have  formed  a  study 
for  the  phrenologist,  whether  we  consider  its  ample  developments 
or  its  egg-like  baldness.  The  place  of  hair  was  supplied  by 
powder,  which  his  illustrious  example  had  again  made  fashionable. 
The  revolution  in  public  sentiment  which,  commencing  sixty  years 
ago,  had  abolished  all  the  privileges  of  rank  and  age ;  which 
trained  up  the  young  to  mock  at  the  infirmities  of  their  fathers, 
and  encouraged  the  unwashed  artificer  to  elbow  the  duke  from 
his  place  of  precedence ;  this  revolution  had  now  completed  its 
cycle.  While  the  sovereignty  of  numbers  was  acknowledged,  the 
convenience  of  the  multitude  had  set  the  fashions.  But  the  reign 
of  an  individual  had  been  restored,  and  the  taste  of  that  individual 
gave  law  to  the  general  taste.  Had  he  worn  a  wig,  wigs  would 
have  been  the  rage.  But  as  phrenology  had  taught  him  to  be 
justly  proud  of  his  high  and  polished  forehead,  and  the  intellect 
ual  developments  of  the  whole  cranium,  he  eschewed  hair  in  all 
its  forms,  and  barely  screened  his  naked  crown  from  the  air  with 
a  light  covering  of  powder.  He  seemed,  too,  not  wholly  uncon 
scious  of  something  worthy  of  admiration  in  a  foot,  the  beauty  of 
which  was  displayed  to  the  best  advantage  by  the  tight  fit  and 
high  finish  of  his  delicate  slipper.  As  he  lay  back  on  the  sofa,  his 
eye  rested  complacently  on  this  member,  which  was  stretched  out 
before  him,  its  position  shifting,  as  if  unconsciously,  into  every 
variety  of  grace.  Returning  from  thence,  his  glance  rested  on  his 
hand,  fair,  delicate,  small,  and  richly  jewelled.  It  hung  carelessly 
on  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  the  fingers  of  this,  too,  as  if  rather 
from  instinct  than  volition,  performed  sundry  evolutions  on  which 
the  eye  of  majesty  dwelt  with  gentle  complacency. 


II 6  WILLIAM  JOHN  GRAY  SON 


WILLIAM   JOHN   GRAYSON 

[WILLIAM  JOHN  GRAYSON  was  born  in  Beaufort,  South  Carolina,  November 
10, 1788,  and  died  in  Newberry,  South  Carolina,  October  4, 1863.  After  receiv 
ing  a  good  classical  education  he  devoted  himself  to  the  law.  He  practised  in 
Beaufort,  was  a  member  of  the  state  legislature,  and  from  1833  to  1837  served 
in  Congress.  He  was  also  from  1841  to  1853  collector  of  the  port  of  Charleston. 
In  politics  he  was  conservative  and  on  the  whole  opposed  to  disunion,  although 
he  was  far  from  adopting  a  position  antagonistic  to  slavery.  He  was  a  man  of 
culture  and  of  some  turn  for  verse,  as  is  proved  by  "  The  Hireling  and  the  Slave  " 
(1854),  a  poem  defending  slavery  in  the  style  of  the  school  of  Pope,  and 
by  "  Chicora,"  an  Indian  legend  in  the  manner  of  Scott's  narrative  poetry,  but 
showing  a  study  of  later  models.  He  was  also  the  author  of  another  old-fash 
ioned  poem,  "The  Country"  (1858),  and  a  contributor  to  local  magazines  and 
newspapers.  Although  some  of  his  verse  has  merit,  his  most  significant  work  is 
a  biographical  sketch  of  James  Louis  Petigru,  published  posthumously  (1866). 
Mr.  Petigru  (1789-1863)  was  one  of  the  ablest  members  of  the  Charleston 
bar,  a  friend  of  Hugh  S.  Legare,  and  a  leading  opponent  of  Calhoun  and 
Hayne  in  the  Nullification  crisis.  He  was  unpopular  on  account  of  his  devo 
tion  to  the  Union,  but  was  respected  both  for  his  ability  and  for  his  honesty 
and  courage.  In  his  old  age  he  bitterly  opposed  the  secession  of  South  Caro 
lina.  His  greatest  achievement  as  a  lawyer  was  his  codification  of  the  laws  of 
his  state.  It  is  believed  that  Grayson's  sketch  was  somewhat  modified  before 
it  saw  the  light.  A  biography  which  Grayson  wrote  of  William  Lowndes  and 
another  manuscript  seem  to  have  disappeared.] 


A  FAMOUS   CAROLINA   SCHOOL 
[FROM  " JAMES  Louis  PETIGRU:   A  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH."    I866.1] 

THE  Willington  school  was  a  sort  of  Eton  or  Rugby  of  American 
manufacture,  and  the  doctor 2  at  its  head  the  Carolina  Dr.  Arnold. 
He  had  talents  for  organization  and  government.  His  method 

1  Reprinted  through  the  courtesy  of  Harper  &  Bros.,  who  hold  the  copyright. 

2  Dr.  Moses  Waddell  (1770-1840)^  Presbyterian  clergyman,  born  in  North  Caro 
lina.     He  established  his  school  in  Edgefield  District  in  1804  and  taught,  among 
others,  Hugh  S.  Legare,  George  McDuffie,  and  Judge  Longstreet.     (See  p.  122 
note.)     From  1819  to  1829  he  was  president  of  the  University  of  Georgia. 


A    UNIQUE  JAIL  II 7 

appealed  largely  to  the  honor  and  moral  sense  of  his  pupils. 
They  were  not  confined  with  their  books  unnecessarily  in  a  nar 
row  school-room.  The  forest  was  their  place  of  study.  They 
resorted  to  the  old  oaks  and  hickories,  and  at  their  feet  or  among 
their  branches  prepared  their  various  lessons.  The  horn  called 
them  at  intervals  to  change  of  occupation.  The  sound  was  repeated 
from  point  to  point,  and  the  woods  echoed  with  these  sonorous 
signals  for  recitation  or  retirement.  When  cold  or  wet  weather 
drove  the  students  from  their  sylvan  resorts,  log  cabins  in  various 
quarters  afforded  the  requisite  accommodations.  At  night,  with 
the  same  sound  of  the  horn,  they  retired  to  their  lodgings  for 
sleep  or  farther  study.  Their  food  was  Spartan  in  plainness  — 
corn-bread  and  bacon ;  and  for  lights,  torches  of  pine  were  more 
in  fashion  than  candles.  Monitors  regulated  the  classes  and  sub 
divisions  of  classes,  and  preserved  the  order  and  discipline  of  the 
institution  with  the  smallest  possible  reference  to  its  head.  It  was 
a  kind  of  rural  republic,  with  a  perpetual  dictator.  The  scholars 
were  enthusiastically  attached  to  their  school.  After  they  had 
become  grandfathers  they  talked  of  it  in  raptures. 


A  UNIQUE  JAIL 

[FROM  THE  SAME.1] 

COOSAWHATCHIE,  at  that  time  the  judicial  capital  of  Beaufort 
District,  lies  on  the  road  that  leads  from  Charleston  to  Savannah, 
and  was  always  so  well  situated  for  catching  bilious  fever  as  never 
to  miss  it.  It  was  hardly  habitable  during  the  summer.  The  evil 
increased  as  the  woods  were  cut  down,  and  the  moist,  fertile  soil 
was  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  sun.  To  live  in  the  village  two 
consecutive  summers  became  almost  impossible  for  white  men. 
Few  ever  attempted  it.  There  was  one  exception — just  enough 
to  prove  the  rule.  The  exception  was  Mr.  Bassilue,  who  kept  a 
shop,  and  furnished  board  and  lodging  for  lawyers  and  clients  in 
term-time.  He  was  able  to  live  with  country  fever  in  all  its  varie 
ties,  as  conjurers  in  Bengal  handle  venomous  serpents  without  harm 

1  Reprinted  through  the  courtesy  of  Harper  &  Bros. 


Il8  RICHARD  HENRY   WILDE 

or  danger.  He  must  have  been  anointed  in  infancy  with  some 
patent  drug  of  mysterious  efficacy.  The  aligator  in  the  neighbor 
ing  creek  was  not  safer  than  he.  To  every  white  man  but  himself 
a  summer  in  Coosawhatchie  was  death.  It  was  unnecessary  to  try 
a  criminal  there  charged  with  a  capital  offense.  All  that  was  re 
quired  was  to  put  him  in  jail  in  May  to  wait  his  trial  at  the  Novem 
ber  court.  The  state  paid  for  a  coffin,  and  saved  the  expenses  of 
trial  and  execution.  At  night  the  jailer  thought  it  unnecessary 
to  remain  in  the  jail.  He  locked  his  doors  and  went  away  to 
some  healthier  place  until  morning,  confident  that  his  prisoners 
had  neither  strength  nor  spirit  to  escape.  At  last  the  lawyers 
became  dissatisfied.  They  loved  fair  play  as  well  as  fees,  and 
desired  to  see  the  rogues  brought  to  justice  in  the  regular  way, 
with  a  chance  for  their  lives  such  as  the  assistance  of  a  lawyer 
always  affords  them.  The  general  jail  delivery  brought  about  by 
fever  prevented  the  thief  from  being  duly  hanged  and  the  counsel 
from  receiving  his  retainer.  The  culprit  escaped  the  halter  through 
the  climate,  not  through  the  bar. 


RICHARD    HENRY  WILDE 

a 

[RICHARD  HENRY  WILDE  was  born  in  Dublin,  Ireland,  September  24, 1789, 
and  died  in  New  Orleans,  September  10,  1847.  H*s  father  and  mother  came 
to  this  country  in  1797.  The  former  soon  died,  and  the  mother  and  son  settled 
in  Augusta,  Georgia.  Wilde  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at  the  age  of  twenty, 
rose  rapidly,  was  a  member  of  Congress  for  several  terms,  and  finally  left  poli 
tics,  as  the  very  different  Davy  Crockett  had  done,  on  account  of  his  opposi 
tion  to  Andrew  Jackson.  From  1835  to  1840  he  studied  abroad,  chiefly  in 
Italian  literature,  devoting  himself  in  especial  to  Dante  and  Tasso.  He  was 
instrumental  in  the  discovery  of  the  famous  portrait  of  Dante  by  Giotto  on  the 
wall  of  the  chapel  of  the  Bargello.  In  1843  ne  removed  to  New  Orleans, 
where  he  became  professor  of  constitutional  law  in  the  law  department  of  the 
state  university.  Meanwhile  he  had  made  himself  a  reputation  as  a  poet  by 
fugitive  poems,  which  were  widely  copied  in  the  newspapers.  Chief  among 
these  was  "  My  Life  is  like  the  Summer  Rose,"  which  was  at  first  intended 
to  appear  in  a  narrative  poem  dealing  with  events  in  Florida.  The  lines 
appeared  about  1815,  and  having  later  been  translated  into  Greek  were  palmed 
off  on  many  persons  as  a  translation  from  Alcaeus.  It  is  interesting  to  recall 


STANZAS  119 

that  another  famous  lyric  by  an  Irish-born  poet,  Wolfe's  "  Burial  of  Sir  John 
Moore,"  has  been  often  asserted  to  be  a  mere  translation  from  the  French 
or  the  German  because  "  Father  Prout "  amused  himself  by  translating  it  into 
those  languages  and  declaring  his  versions  to  be  originals.  Other  verses  were 
contributed  by  Wilde  to  the  magazines  of  the  day,  particularly  translations 
from  the  Romance  literatures.  His  only  book  was  "  Conjectures  concerning 
the  Love,  Madness,  and  Imprisonment  of  Torquato  Tasso  "  (1842).  He  left 
many  manuscripts,  and  in  1867  his  son  edited  a  narrative  poem,  "  Hesperia," 
which  has  attracted  but  little  notice.  For  an  account  of  his  unpublished 
"  Life  and  Times  of  Dante  "  and  his  "  Italian  Lyric  Poets,"  see  Theodore  W. 
Koch's  "Dante  in  America"  (1896).  See  also  Charles  C.  Jones's  "Life, 
Labors,  and  Neglected  Grave  of  Richard  Henry  Wilde"1  (1885).] 


STANZAS 

MY  life  is  like  the  summer  rose, 

That  opens  to  the  morning  sky, 
But,  ere  the  shades  of  evening  close, 

Is  scattered  on  the  ground  —  to  die  ! 
Yet  on  the  rose's  humble  bed 
The  sweetest  dews  of  night  are  shed, 

1  From  this  pamphlet  the  following  additional  facts  have  been  gleaned.  Young 
Wilde  went  to  Augusta  alone  and  worked  in  a  dry-goods  store.  His  mother  and 
her  other  children  followed  him,  and  for  seven  years  they  kept  a  small  store,  Wilde 
studying  hard  at  every  opportunity.  A  kind  lawyer  loaned  him  books  and  gave 
him  instruction  in  the  law.  After  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  in  March,  1809,  his 
arguments  against  legislation  impairing  the  obligation  of  contracts  gave  him  a  repu 
tation  throughout  the  state  and  led  to  his  being  elected  attorney-general  at  a  sur 
prisingly  early  age.  He  was  chosen  to  Congress  when  he  was  but  two  weeks  over 
the  constitutional  age  of  twenty-five.  He  suffered  two  defeats,  the  last  in  1834,  on 
account  of  the  reason  given  in  the  text.  With  regard  to  Wilde's  most  famous  lyric, 
which  won  the  praise  of  Byron,  Mr.  Jones  wrote  that  the  narrative  poem  in  which 
it  was  embodied  as  "  The  Return  of  the  Captive  "  was  undertaken  on  the  return  of 
Wilde's  brother  from  the  Seminole  war  in  Florida,  and  was  suggested  by  the  stories 
he  told  of  his  experiences.  When  this  brother  was  shortly  after  killed  in  a  duel,  the 
long  poem  was  broken  off.  The  famous  stanzas Vere  obtained  from  Wilde  sur 
reptitiously  and  were  widely  printed  in  the  newspapers  in  1815  and  1816,  their  author, 
however,  refraining  from  acknowledging  them.  It  was  not  until  Mr.  Alexander 
Barclay,  British  consul  at  Savannah,  translated  them  into  Greek  prose  that  Wilde 
made  good  his  claims  against  those  of  pretenders  (1835).  Mr.  Barclay  published 
an  account  of  the  affair  in  1871.  According  to  Professor  Weber  ("  Southern  Poets," 
p.  208)  Wilde's  body  lies  in  an  unmarked  grave  near  Augusta,  Georgia,  but  a  monu 
ment  to  his  memory  has  been  erected  on  one  of  the  principal  streets  of  the  city." 


120  RICHARD  HENRY   WILDE 

As  if  she  wept  the  waste  to  see  — 
But  none  shall  weep  a  tear  for  me  ! 

My  life  is  like  the  autumn  leaf 

That  trembles  in  the  moon's  pale  ray : 
Its  hold  is  frail  —  its  date  is  brief, 

Restless  —  and  soon  to  pass  away  ! 
Yet,  ere  that  leaf  shall  fall  and  fade, 
The  parent  tree  will  mourn  its  shade, 
The  winds  bewail  the  leafless  tree  — 
But  none  shall  breathe  a  sigh  for  me  ! 

My  life  is  like  the  prints,  which  feet 

Have  left  on  Tampa's *  desert  strand ; 
Soon  as  the  rising  tide  shall  beat, 

All  trace  will  vanish  from  the  sand ; 
Yet,  as  if  grieving  to  efface 
All  vestige  of  the  human  race, 
On  that  lone  shore  loud  moans  the  sea 
But  none,  alas  !  shall  mourn  for  me  ! 


TO   THE  MOCKING-BIRD 

WINGED  mimic  of  the  woods  !  thou  motley  fool ! 

Who  shall  thy  gay  buffoonery  describe? 
Thine  ever  ready  notes  of  ridicule 

Pursue  thy  fellows  still  with  jest  and  gibe. 

Wit,  sophist,  songster,  Yorick 2  of  thy  tribe, 
Thou  sportive  satirist  of  Nature's  school, 

To  thee  the  p^alm  of  scoffing  we  ascribe, 
Arch-mocker  and  mad  Abbot  of  Misrule  ! 3 

For  such  thou  art  by  day  —  but  all  night  long 

1  "  Tampa  "  in  some  versions  was  changed  to  "  Tempe,"  probably  on  account  of 
the  ascription  of  the  poem  to  Alcaeus. 

2  Cf.  "  Hamlet,"  V,  i. 

3  A  term  applied  of  old  to  the  leader  of  the  Christmas  revels. 


AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET  121 

Thou  pourest  a  soft,  sweet,  pensive,  solemn  strain, 
As  if  thou  didst  in. this  thy  moonlight  song 

Like  to  the  melancholy  Jacques l  complain, 
Musing  on  falsehood,  folly,  vice,  and  wrong, 

And  sighing  for  thy  motley  coat  again. 


AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET 

[AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET  was  born  in  Augusta,  Georgia,  Septem 
ber  22,  1790,  and  died  in  Oxford,  Mississippi,  September  9,  1870.  He  was  the 
son  of  William  Longstreet,  an  inventor  who  announced  his  invention  of  a 
steamboat  before  Fulton  did,  and  made  a  successful  trial  with  his  boat  on  the 
Savannah  River  a  few  days  after  Fulton  had  succeeded  on  the  Hudson. 
Other  inventions  showed  the  elder  Longstreet's  genius,  but  fortune  did  not 
allow  him  to  profit  from  them.  His  son.  was  graduated  from  Yale,  studied 
law,  became  a  legislator  and  a  judge  in  his  native  state,  established  the  Au 
gusta  Sentinel,  and  then  in  1838  became  a  minister  in  the  Methodist  church. 
Four  years  previously  he  had  published  in  his  newspaper  various  sketches, 
signed  "  Hall "  and  "  Baldwin,*'  dealing  with  phases  of  life  among  the  simpler 
classes  of  the  population.  These  were  so  popular  that  he  was  induced  to 
gather  them  into  a  book  —  the  famous  "  Georgia  Scenes" — published  in  a  cheap 
form  at  the  Sentinel  Press.  The  copy  which  reached  Poe,  then  conduct 
ing  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger  at  Richmond,  caused  that  sombre 
young  editor,  as  he  confessed,  to  laugh  more  heartily  than  he  had  done  at  any 
other  recent  book.  Others  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  Poe;  but  when,  in  1840,  the 
Harpers  issued  a  second  edition,2  they  stated  that  they  could  not  prevail  upon 
the  author  to  revise  it.  It  is  also  said  that  he  refused  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  an  edition  of  1867,  and  it  seems  certain  that  after  he  entered  the  minis 
try  he  felt  that  he  would  willingly  disown  stories  dealing  with  fighting  and 
dancing  and  horse-racing  and  other  worldly  employments.  One  respects  his 
scruples,  but  must  feel  that  his  racy  humor  can  do  no  harm  now,  and  that,  if 
we  were  without  his  book,  we  should  be  deprived  of  most  entertaining  and 
valuable  descriptions  of  certain  phases  of  life  in  the  olden  times.  Besides,  we 
should  be  much  less  able  to  account  for  such  recent  manifestations  of  Georgia 
humor  as  are  found  in  the  writings  of  Colonel  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston 
and  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Judge  Longstreet  could  not 
keep  from  writing,  for  he  contributed  to  many  magazines  and  delivered  many 

iCf."AsYouLikeIt,"IV,i. 

2  There  were  several  reprints  during  the  fifties,  an  indication  of  the  popularity 
of  the  book. 


122  AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET 

speeches  and  sermons.1  As  a  clergyman  he  showed  great  devotion  to  duty 
when  Augusta  was  visited  by  the  yellow  fever.  Then  he  took  up  the  cause 
of  education,  and  became  successively  president  of  Emory  College,  Georgia, 
Centenary  College,  Louisiana,  the  University  of  Mississippi,  South  Carolina 
College,  and  finally  of  the  University  of  Mississippi  again.  His  was  a  strik 
ingly  full  and  useful  life,  and  he  would  deserve  to  be  remembered  even  if  he 
had  not  bequeathed  to  us  one  of  the  most  original  books  ever  written  by  a 
Southerner.  A  careful  account  of  his  career  and  a  selected  edition  of  his 
writings  are  much  to  be  desired.  It  may  be  remarked  that  one  of  the  most 
humorous  papers  in  "  Georgia  Scenes "  is  said  to  have  been  written  by  a 
friend  of  Judge  Baldwin,  Oliver  Hillhouse  Prince  (1787-1837),  who  repre 
sented  Georgia  for  a  short  period  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  This  is 
"The  Militia  Drill,"  much  read  abroad,  which  the  distinguished  English 
novelist,  Mr.  Thomas  Hardy,  has  either  directly  imitated  or  else  strikingly 
paralleled  in  an  unconscious  fashion  in  his  charming  novel,  "  The  Trumpet 
Major."  For  a  sketch  of  Longstreet,  see  Bishop  Fitzgerald's  "  Eminent  Meth 
odists"  (1898).  The  distinguished  Confederate  general,  James  Longstreet, 
was  a  nephew  of  Judge  Longstreet,  and  in  his  memoirs  he  gives  a  slight 
account  of  his  grandfather,  the  inventor.] 

THE   HORSE-SWAP 

[FROM  "  GEORGIA  SCENES,  CHARACTERS,  INCIDENTS,  ETC.,  IN  THE  FIRST 
HALF  CENTURY  OF  THE  REPUBLIC,"  SECOND  EDITION,  1840.] 

DURING  the  session  of  the  Supreme  Court,  in  the  village   of 

,  about   three  weeks   ago,  when  a  number  of  people  were 

collected  in  the  principal  street  of  the  village,  I  observed  a  young 
man  riding  up  and  down  the  street,  as  I  supposed,  in  a  violent 
passion.  He  galloped  this  way,  then  that,  and  then  the  other ; 
spurred  his  horse  to  one  group  of  citizens,  then  to  another ;  then 
dashed  off  at  half  speed,  as  if  fleeing  from  danger  ;  and,  suddenly 
checking  his  horse,  returned  first  in  a  pace,  then  in  a  trot,  and 
then  in  a  canter.  While  he  was  performing  these  various  evolu 
tions,  he  cursed,  swore,  whooped,  screamed,  and  tossed  himself  in 
every  attitude  which  man  could  assume  on  horseback.  In  short, 

1  He  actually  tried  fiction  again,  but  fiction  of  a  clearly  moral  kind,  in  "  Master 
William  Mitten,"  a  wooden  story  of  a  brilliant  youth  ruined  by  bad  luck.  This 
was  begun  in  1849,  resumed  during  the  war,  and  published  at  Macon,  Georgia, 
in  1864.  It  has  a  good  account  of  Waddell's  school,  in  the  Edgefield  District, 
where  Longstreet  studied  from  1806  to  1809. 


THE  HORSE-SWAP  12$ 

he  cavorted  most  magnanimously  (a  term  which,  in  our  tongue, 
expresses  all  that  I  have  described,  and  a  little  more),  and  seemed 
to  be  setting  all  creation  at  defiance.  As  I  like  to  see  all  that  is 
passing,  I  determined  to  take  a  position  a  little  nearer  to  him,  and 
to  ascertain,  if  possible,  what  it  was  that  affected  him  so  sensibly. 
Accordingly,  I  approached  a  crowd  before  which  he  had  stopped 
for  a  moment,  and  examined  it  with  the  strictest  scrutiny.  But 
I  could  see  nothing  in  it  that  seemed  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  cavorter.  Every  man  appeared  to  be  in  good  humor,  and  all 
minding  their  own  business.  Not  one  so  much  as  noticed  the 
principal  figure.  Still  he  went  on.  After  a  semicolon  pause,  which 
my  appearance  seemed  to  produce  (for  he  eyed  me  closely  as  I 
approached),  he  fetched  a  whoop,  and  swore  that  he  could  out 
swap  any  live  man,  woman,  or  child  that  ever  walked  these  hills, 
or  that  ever  straddled  horseflesh  since  the  days  of  old  daddy 
Adam.  "  Stranger,"  said  he  to  me,  "  did  you  ever  see  the  Yallow 
Blossom  from  Jasper?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "but  I  have  often  heard  of  him." 

"  I'm  the  boy,"  continued  he;  "  perhaps  a  leetle,  jist  a  leetky  of 
the  best  man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever  trod  shoe-leather." 

I  began  to  feel  my  situation  a  little  awkward,  when  I  was  re 
lieved  by  a  man  somewhat  advanced  in  years,  who  stepped  up  and 
began  to  survey  the  "  Yallow  Blossom's  "  horse  with  much  apparent 
interest.  This  drew  the  rider's  attention,  and  he  turned  the  con 
versation  from  me  to  the  stranger. 

"Well,  my  old  coon,"  said  he,  "do  you  want  to  swap 
hosses  ?  " 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  stranger;  "I  believe  I've 
got  a  beast  I'd  trade  with  you  for  that  one,  if  you  like  him." 

"  Well,  fetch  up  your  nag,  my  old  cock ;  you're  jist  the  lark  I 
wanted  to  get  hold  of.  I  am  perhaps  a  lee  tie,  jist  a  leetle,  of  the 
best  man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever  stole  cracklins  out  of  his 
mammy's  fat  gourd.  Where's  your  hoss?" 

"  I'll  bring  him  presently ;  but  I  want  to  examine  your  horse  a 
little." 

"  Oh  !  look  at  him,"  said  the  Blossom,  alighting  and  hitting  him  a 
cut ;  "  look  at  him.  He's  the  best  piece  of  hossResh.  in  the  thirteen 


124  AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET 

united  univarsal  worlds.  There's  no  sort  o'  mistake  in  little  Bullet. 
He  can  pick  up  miles  on  his  feet,  and  fling  'em  behind  him  as 
fast  as  the  next  man's  hoss,  I  don't  care  where  he  comes  from. 
And  he  can  keep  at  it  as  long  as  the  sun  can  shine  without 
resting." 

During  this  harangue,  little  Bullet  looked  as  if  he  understood  it 
all,  believed  it,  and  was  ready  at  any  moment  to  verify  it.  He 
was  a  horse  of  goodly  countenance,  rather  expressive  of  vigilance 
than  fire  ;  though  an  unnatural  appearance  of  fierceness  was  thrown 
into  it  by  the  loss  of  his  ears,  which  had  been  cropped  pretty  close 
to  his  head.  Nature  had  done  but  little  for  Bullet's  head  and 
neck;  but  he  managed,  in  a  great  measure,  to  hide  their  defects 
by  bowing  perpetually.  He  had  obviously  suffered  severely  for 
corn ;  but  if  his  ribs  and  hip  bones  had  not  disclosed  the  fact,  he 
never  would  have  done  it ;  for  he  was  in  all  respects  as  cheerful 
and  happy  as  if  he  commanded  all  the  corn-cribs  and  fodder- 
stacks  in  Georgia.  His  height  was  about  twelve  hands ;  but  as 
his  shape  partook  somewhat  of  that  of  the  giraffe,  his  haunches 
stood  much  lower.  They  were  short,  strait,  peaked,  and  concave. 
Bullet's  tail,  however,  made  amends  for  all  his  defects.  All  that 
the  artist  could  do  to  beautify  it  had  been  done ;  and  all  that 
horse  could  do  to  compliment  the  artist,  Bullet  did.  His  tail  was 
nicked  in  superior  style,  and  exhibited  the  line  of  beauty  in  so 
many  directions,  that  it  could  not  fail  to  hit  the  most  fastidious 
taste  in  some  of  them.  From  the  root  it  drooped  into  a  graceful 
festoon ;  then  rose  in  a  handsome  curve ;  then  resumed  its  first 
direction ;  and  then  mounted  suddenly  upward  like  a  cypress 
knee  to  a  perpendicular  of  about  two  and  a  half  inches.  The 
whole  had  a  careless  and  bewitching  inclination  to  the  right. 
Bullet  obviously  knew  where  his  beauty  lay,  and  took  all  occasions 
to  display  it  to  the  best  advantage.  If  a  stick  cracked,  or  if  any 
one  moved  suddenly  about* him,  or  coughed,  or  hawked,  or  spoke 
a  little  louder  than  common,  up  went  Bullet's  tail  like  lightning ; 
and  if  the  going  up  did  not  please,  the  coming  down  must  of  ne 
cessity,  for  it  was  as  different  from  the  other  movement  as  was  its 
direction.  The  first  was  a  bold  and  rapid  flight  upward,  usually 
to  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  In  this  position  he  kept  his 


THE  HORSE-SWAP  12$ 

interesting  appendage  until  he  satisfied  himself  that  nothing  in 
particular  was  to  be  done ;  when  he  commenced  dropping  it  by 
half  inches,  in  second  beats,  then  in  triple  time,  then  faster  and 
shorter,  and  faster  and  shorter  still,  until  it  finally  died  away  im 
perceptibly  into  its  natural  position.  If  I  might  compare  sights 
to  sounds  I  should  say  its  settling  was  more  like  the  note  of  a 
locust  than  anything  else  in  nature. 

Either  from  native  sprightliness  of  disposition,  from  uncon 
trollable  activity,  or  from  an  unconquerable  habit  of  removing 
flies  by  the  stamping  of  the  feet,  Bullet  never  stood  still ;  but 
always  kept  up  a  gentle  fly-scaring  movement  of  his  limbs,  which 
was  peculiarly  interesting. 

"I  tell  you,  man,"  proceeded  the  Yellow  Blossom,  "he's  the 
best  live  hoss  that  ever  trod  the  grit  of  Georgia.  Bob  Smart 
knows  the  hoss.  Come  here,  Bob,  and  mount  this  hoss,  and  show 
Bullet's  motions."  Here  Bullet  bristled  up,  and  looked  as  if  he  had 
been  hunting  for  Bob  all  day  long,  and  had  just  found  him.  Bob 
sprang  on  his  back.  "  Boo-oo-oo  ! "  said  Bob,  with  a  fluttering 
noise  of  the  lips ;  and  away  went  Bullet,  as  if  in  a  quarter  race, 
with  all  his  beauties  spread  in  handsome  style. 

"  Now  fetch  him  back,"  said  Blossom.  Bullet  turned  and  came 
in  pretty  much  as  he  went  out. 

"  Now  trot  him  by."  Bullet  reduced  his  tail  to  "  customary  "  ; 
sidled  to  the  right  and  left  airily,  and  exhibited  at  least  three 
varieties  of  trot  in  the  short  space  of  fifty  yards. 

"  Make  him  pace  !  "  Bob  commenced  twitching  the  bridle  and 
kicking  at  the  same  time.  These  inconsistent  movements  obvi 
ously  (and  most  naturally)  disconcerted  Bullet ;  for  it  was  im 
possible  for  him  to  learn,  from  them,  whether  he  was  to  proceed 
or  stand  still.  He  started  to  trot,  and  was  told  that  wouldn't 
do.  He  attempted  a  canter,  and  was  checked  again.  He 
stopped,  and  was  urged  to  go  on.  Bullet  now  rushed  into  the 
wild  field  of  experiment,  and  struck  out  a  gait  of  his  own,  that 
completely  turned  the  tables  upon  his  rider,  and  certainly 
deserved  a  patent.  It  seemed  to  have  derived  its  elements 
from  the  jig,  the  minuet,  and  the  cotillon.  If  it  was  not  a 
pace,  it  certainly  had  pace  in  it,  and  no  man  could  venture  to 


126  AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET 

call  it  anything  else ;  so  it  passed  off  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
owner. 

"Walk  him  !  "  Bullet  was  now  at  home  again ;  and  he  walked 
as  if  money  was  staked  on  him. 

The  stranger,  whose  name,  I  afterwards  learned,  was  Peter 
Ketch,  having  examined  Bullet  to  his  heart's  content,  ordered 
his  son  Neddy  to  go  and  bring  up  Kit.  Neddy  soon  appeared 
upon  Kit,  a  well-formed  sorrel  of  the  middle  size,  and  in  good 
order.  His  tout  ensemble  threw  Bullet  entirely  in  the  shade,  though 
a  glance  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  any  one  that  Bullet  had  decided 
advantage  of  him  in  point  of  intellect. 

"  Why,  man,"  said  Blossom,  "  do  you  bring  such  a  hoss  as  that 
to  trade  for  Bullet?  Oh,  I  see  you're  no  notion  of  trading." 

"  Ride  him  off,  Neddy  !  "  said  Peter.  Kit  put  off  at  a  handsome 
lope. 

"  Trot  him  back  !  "  Kit  came  in  at  a  long  sweeping  trot,  and 
stopped  suddenly  at  the  crowd. 

"  Well,"  said  Blossom,  "  let  me  look  at  him ;  maybe  he'll  do  to 
plough." 

"  Examine  him  ! "  said  Peter,  taking  hold  of  the  bridle  close  to 
the  mouth,  "  he's  nothing  but  a  tacky.  He  ain't  as  pretty  a  horse 
as  Bullet,  I  know,  but  he'll  do.  Start  'em  together  for  a  hundred 
and  fifty  mile;  and  if  Kit  an't  twenty  mile  ahead  of  him  at  the  com 
ing  out,  any  man  may  take  Kit  for  nothing.  But  he's  a  monstrous 
mean  horse,  gentlemen,  any  man  may  see  that.  He's  the  scariest 
horse,  too,  you  ever  saw.  He  won't  do  to  hunt  on,  no  how. 
Stranger,  will  you  let  Neddy  have  your  rifle  to  shoot  off  him? 
Lay  the  rifle  between  his  ears,  Neddy,  and  shoot  at  the  blaze  in 
that  stump.  Tell  me  when  his  head  is  high  enough." 

Ned  fired,  and  hit  the  blaze ;  and  Kit  did  not  move  a  hair's 
breadth. 

"  Neddy,  take  a  couple  of  sticks,  and  beat  on  that  hogshead  at 
Kit's  tail." 

Ned  made  a  tremendous  rattling,  at  which  Bullet  took  fright, 
broke  his  bridle,  and  dashed  off  in  grand  style ;  and  would  have 
stopped  all  farther  negotiations  by  going  home  in  disgust,  had  not  a 
traveller  arrested  him  and  brought  him  back;  but  Kit  did  not  move. 


THE  HORSE-SWAP  12? 

"I  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  continued  Peter,  "he's  the  scariest 
horse  you  ever  saw.  He  an't  as  gentle  as  Bullet,  but  he  won't  do 
any  harm  if  you  watch  him.  Shall  I  put  him  in  a  cart,  gig,  or 
wagon  for  you,  stranger?  He'll  cut  the  same  capers  there  .he 
does  here.  He's  a  monstrous  mean  horse." 

During  all  this  time  Blossom  was  examining  him  with  the 
nicest  scrutiny.  Having  examined  his  frame  and  limbs,  he  now 
looked  at  his  eyes. 

"  He's  got  a  curious  look  out  of  his  eyes,"  said  Blossom. 

"Oh  yes,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "just  as  blind  as  a  bat.  Blind 
horses  always  have  clear  eyes.  Make  a  motion  at  his  eyes,  if  you 
please,  sir."  • 

Blossom  did  so,  and  Kit  threw  up  his  head  rather  as  if  some 
thing  pricked  him  under  the  chin  than  as  if  fearing  a  blow.  Blossom 
repeated  the  experiment,  and  Kit  jerked  back  in  considerable 
astonishment. 

"Stone  blind,  you  see,  gentlemen,"  proceeded  Peter;  "but  he's 
just  as  good  to  travel  of  a  dark  night  as  if  he  had  eyes." 

"  Blame  my  buttons,"  said  Blossom,  "  if  I  like  them  eyes." 

"  No,"  said  Peter,  "  nor  I  neither.  I'd  rather  have  'em  made 
of  diamonds ;  but  they'll  do,  if  they  don't  show  as  much  white  as 
Bullet's." 

"  Well,"  said  Blossom,  "  make  a  pass  at  me." 

"No,"  said  Peter;  "you  made  the  banter,  now  make  your 
pass." 

"  Well,  I'm  never  afraid  to  price  my  hosses.  You  must  give 
me  twenty-five  dollars  boot." 

"  Oh,  certainly  ;  say  fifty,  and  my  saddle  and  bridle  in.  Here, 
Neddy,  my  son,  take  away  daddy's  horse." 

"Well,"  said  Blossom,  "I've  made  my  pass,  now  you  make 
yours." 

"  I'm  for  short  talk  in  a  horse-swap,  and  therefore  always  tell  a 
gentleman  at  once  what  I  mean  to  do.  You  must  give  me  ten 
dollars." 

Blossom  swore  absolutely,  roundly,  and  profanely,  that  he  never 
would  give  boot. 

"Well,"  said  Peter,  "I  didn't  care  about  trading;  but  you  cut 


128  AUGUSTUS  BALDWIN  LONGSTREET 

such  high  shines,  that  I  thought  I'd  like  to  back  you  out,  and  I've 
done  it.  Gentlemen,  you  see  I've  brought  him  to  a  hack." 

"  Come,  old  man,"  said  Blossom,  "  I've  been  joking  with  you. 
I  begin  to  think  you  do  want  to  trade ;  therefore,  give  me  five  dol 
lars  and  take  Bullet.  I'd  rather  lose  ten  dollars  any  time  than 
not  make  a  trade,  though  I  hate  to  fling  away  a  good  hoss." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "  I'll  be  as  clever  as  you  are,  just  put 
the  five  dollars  on  Bullet's  back,  and  hand  him  over,  it's  a 
trade." 

Blossom  swore  again,  as  roundly  as  before,  that  he  would  not 
give  boot ;  and,  said  he,  "  Bullet  wouldn't  hold  five  dollars  on  his 
back,  no  how.  But  as  I  bantered  you,  if  you  say  an  even  swap, 
here's  at  you." 

"  I  told  you,"  said  Peter,  "  I'd  be  as  clever  as  you,  therefore, 
here  goes  two  dollars  more,  just  for  trade  sake.  Give  me  three 
dollars,  and  it's  a  bargain." 

Blossom  repeated  his  former  assertion ;  and  here  the  parties 
stood  for  a  long  time,  and  the  by-standers  (for  many  were  now 
collected)  began  to  taunt  both  parties.  After  some  time,  how 
ever,  it  was  pretty  unanimously  decided  that  the  old  man  had 
backed  Blossom  out. 

At  length  Blossom  swore  he  "  never  would  be  backed  out  for 
three  dollars  after  bantering  a  man ; "  and,  accordingly,  they 
closed  the  trade. 

"  Now,"  said  Blossom,  as  he  handed  Peter  the  three  dollars,  "  I'm 
'  a  man  that  when  he  makes  a  bad  trade,  makes  the  most  of  it  until 
he  can  make  a  better.  I'm  for  no  rues  and  after-claps." 

"That's  just  my  way,"  said  Peter;  "I  never  goes  to  law  to 
mend  my  bargains." 

"  Ah,  you're  the  kind  of  boy  I  love  to  trade  with.  Here's  your 
hoss,  old  man.  Take  the  saddle  and  bridle  off  him,  and  I'll  strip 
yours ;  but  lift  up  the  blanket  easy  from  Bullet's  back,  for  he's  a 
mighty  tender-backed  hoss." 

The  old  man  removed  the  saddle,  but  the  blanket  stuck  fast. 
He  attempted  to  raise  it,  and  Bullet  bowed  himself,  switched  his 
tail,  danced  a  little,  and  gave  signs  of  biting. 

,"  Don't  hurt  him,  old  man,"  said  Blossom,  archly ;  "  take  it  off 


THE  HORSE-SWAP  I2Q 

easy.  I  am,  perhaps,  a  leetle  of  the  best  man  at  a  horse-swap  that 
ever  catched  a  coon." 

Peter  continued  to  pull  at  the  blanket  more  and  more  roughly, 
and  Bullet  became  more  and  more  cavortish  :  insomuch  that,  when 
the  blanket  came  off,  he  had  reached  the  kicking  point  in  good 
earnest. 

The  removal  of  the  blanket  disclosed  a  sore  on  Bullet's  back 
bone  that  seemed  to  have  defied  all  medical  skill.  It  measured 
six  full  inches  in  length  and  four  in  breadth,  and  had  as  many  fea 
tures  as  Bullet  had  motions.  My  heart  sickened  at  the  sight ;  and 
I  felt  that  the  brute  who  had  been  riding  him  in  that  situation 
deserved  the  halter. 

The  prevailing  feeling,  however,  was  that  of  mirth.  The  laugh 
became  loud  and  general  at  the  old  man's  expense,  and  rustic 
witticisms  were  liberally  bestowed  upon  him  and  his  late  purchase. 
These  Blossom  continued  to  provoke  by  various  remarks.  He 
asked  the  old  man  "  if  he  thought  Bullet  would  let  five  dollars  lie 
on  his  back."  He  declared  most  seriously  that  he  had  owned  that 
horse  three  months,  and  had  never  discovered  before  that  he  had 
a  sore  back,  "  or  he  never  should  have  thought  of  trading  him,"  etc. 

The  old  man  bore  it  all  with  the  most  philosophic  composure. 
He  evinced  no  astonishment  at  his  late  discovery,  and  made  no 
replies.  But  his  son  Neddy  had  not  disciplined  his  feelings  quite 
so  well.  His  eyes  opened  wider  and  wider  from  the  first  to  the  last 
pull  of  the  blanket ;  and,  when  the  whole  sore  burst  upon  his  view, 
astonishment  and  fright  seemed  to  contend  for  the  mastery  of  his 
countenance.  As  the  blanket  disappeared,  he  stuck  his  hands  in 
his  breeches  pockets,  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  lapsed  into  a  pro 
found  revery,  from  which  he  was  only  roused  by  the  cuts  at  his 
father.  He  bore  them  as  long  as  he  could  ;  and,  when  he  could  con 
tain  himself  no  longer,  he  began,  with  a  certain  wildness  of  expres 
sion  which  gave  a  peculiar  interest  to  what  he  uttered  :  "  His  back's 
mighty  bad  off;  but  .  .  .  old  Kit's  both  blind  and  deef}  .  ,  . 

"  You  walk  him,  and  see  if  he  eint.  His  eyes  don't  look  like  it ; 
but  he'd  jist  as  leve  go  agin  the  house  with  you,  or  in  a  ditch,  as 

1  Only  a  few  phrases  have  been  omitted,  harmless  enough,  but  possibly  unpleas 
ant  to  some  modern  readers. 
K 


130  ROBERT    YOUNG  HAYNE 

any  how.  Now  you  go  try  him."  The  laugh  was  now  turned  on 
Blossom ;  and  many  rushed  to  test  the  fidelity  of  the  little  boy's 
report.  A  few  experiments  established  its  truth  beyond  controversy. 
"  Neddy,"  said  the  old  man,  "  you  oughtn't  to  try  and  make 
people  discontented  with  their  things.  Stranger,  don't  mind  what 
the  little  boy  says.  If  you  can  only  get  Kit  rid  of  them  little 
failings,  you'll  find  him  all  sorts  of  a  horse.  You  are  a  leetle  the 
best  man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever  I  got  hold  of;  but  don't  fool 
away  Kit.  Come,  Neddy,  my  son,  let's  be  moving ;  the  stranger 
seems  to  be  getting  snappish." 

HALL. 

ROBERT   YOUNG    HAYNE 

[ROBERT  YOUNG  HAYNE  came  of  distinguished  stock,  being  a  great-nephew 
of  Isaac  Hayne,  the  Revolutionary  patriot  executed  by  the  British.  He  was 
born  in  St.  Paul's  Parish,  Colleton  District,  South  Carolina,  November  10,  1791, 
and  died  at  Asheville,  North  Carolina,  September  24,  1839.  He  was  educated 
in  Charleston  and  practised  law  there.  He  served  in  the  War  of  1812,  was  a 
member  of  the  legislature  and  attorney-general  of  the  state,  and  in  1823  was 
elected  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  There  he  became  noted  for  his 
eloquent  opposition  to  the  policy  of  protection  and  for  his  brilliant  exposition 
of  the  theory  of  nullification.  His  most  famous  speech  was  that  of  January 
21,  1830,  which  gave  Webster  the  opportunity  to  deliver  his  celebrated"  Reply 
to  Hayne."  Subsequent  events  showed  that  Webster's  was  the  more  effective 
speech,  and  for  this  and  for  other  reasons  more  strictly  literary  in  their  nature, 
it  has  outranked  Hayne's  contribution  to  the  debate  as  a  piece  of  oratory. 
But  the  South  Carolinian's  performance  was  surely  remarkable  from  the  point 
of  view  of  logical  exposition,  and  it  had  and  still  possesses  much  merit  of  style. 
The  debaters  were  worthy  foemen.  Hayne  took  a  prominent  part  in  the 
movement  for  Nullification,  and  in  December,  1832,  was  chosen  governor  of 
South  Carolina,  giving  up  his  seat  in  the  Senate  to  Calhoun.  Then  Hayne 
became  mayor  of  Charleston  and  president  of  the  Cincinnati  and  Charleston 
Railroad.  Into  the  management  of  the  company,  which  seemed  at  first  to 
have  a  great  future,  he  threw  himself  with  much  energy  ;  and  his  death,  which 
occurred  while  he  was  attending  a  convention  connected  with  the  enterprise, 
was  a  loss  to  the  industrial  interests  of  the  state  which  throughout  his  life  he 
had  served  as  a  devoted  and  able  son.  His  "  Life  and  Speeches  "  appeared 
in  1845,  and  his  speech  against  Webster  has  been  several  times  separately 
edited  for  school  use.  See  his  nephew  the  poet  Paul  H.  Hayne's  "  Lives  of 
Robert  Young  Hayne  and  Hugh  Swinton  Legare"  (1878).] 


WEBSTER  vs.  BENTON  131 


WEBSTER  vs.   BENTON 

[FROM  THE  SPEECH  IN  THE  DEBATE  WITH  WEBSTER,  ON  FOOT'S  RESOLU 
TION,  DELIVERED  IN  THE  U.   S.   SENATE,  JANUARY   21,   I83O.1] 

LITTLE  did  I  expect  to  be  called  upon  to  meet  such  an  argu 
ment  as  was  yesterday  urged  by  the  gentleman  from  Massachu 
setts.  Sir,  I  question  no  man's  opinions;  I  impeach  no  man's 
motives ;  I  charged  no  party,  or  State,  or  section  of  country  with 
hostility  to  any  other,  but  ventured,  as  I  thought,  in  a  becoming 
spirit,  to  put  forth  my  own  sentiments  in  relation  to  a  great 
national  question  of  public  policy.  Such  was  my  course.  The 
gentleman  from  Missouri  (Mr.  Benton),  it  is  true,  had  charged 
upon  the  Eastern  States  an  early  and  continued  hostility  towards 
the  West,  and  referred  to  a  number  of  historical  facts  and  docu 
ments  in  support  of  that  charge.  Now,  sir,  how  have  these  dif- . 
ferent  arguments  been  met?  The  honorable  gentleman  from 
Massachusetts,  after  deliberating  a  whole  night  upon  his  course, 
comes  into  this  chamber  to  vindicate  New  England ;  and  instead 
of  making  up  his  issue  with  the  gentleman  from  Missouri,  on  the 
charges  which  he  had  preferred,  chooses  to  consider  me  as  the 
author  of  those  charges,  and  losing  sight  entirely  of  that  gentle 
man,  selects  me  as  his  adversary,  and  pours  out  all  the  phials  of 
his  mighty  wrath  upon  my  devoted  head.  Nor  is  he  willing  to 
stop  there.  He  goes  on  to  assail  the  institutions  and  policy  of 
the  South,  and  calls  in  question  the  principles  and  conduct  of  the 
State  which  I  have  the  honor  to  represent.  When  I  find  a  gentle 
man  of  mature  age  and  experience,  of  acknowledged  talents  and 
profound  sagacity,  pursuing  a  course  like  this,  declining  the  con 
test  offered  from  the  West,  and  making  war  upon  the  unoffending 
South,  I  must  believe,  I  am  bound  to  believe,  he  has  some  object 
in  view  which  he  has  not  ventured  to  disclose.  Mr.  President, 
why  is  this  ?  Has  the  gentleman  discovered  in  former  controver 
sies  with  the  gentleman  from  Missouri,  that  he  is  overmatched  by 

1  The  text  follows  in  the  main  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  Speeches  of  Messrs.  Hayne 
and  Webster,  etc.,"  Hartford,  1850. 


132  ROBERT    YOUNG  HAYNE 

that  senator?  And  does  he  hope  for  an  easy  victory  over  a  more 
feeble  adversary?  Has  the  gentleman's  distempered  fancy  been 
disturbed  by  gloomy  forebodings  of  "new  alliances  to  be  formed," 
at  which  he  hinted?  Has  the  ghost  of  the  murdered  Coalition 
come  back,  like  the  ghost  of  Banquo,  to  "  sear  the  eyeballs  "  of 
the  gentleman,  and  will  it  not  down  at  his  bidding?  Are  dark  vis 
ions  of  broken  hopes,  and  honors  lost  forever,  still  floating  before 
his  heated  imagination?  Sir,  if  it  be  his  object  to  thrust  me  be 
tween  the  gentleman  from  Missouri  and  himself,  in  order  to  rescue 
the  East  from  the  contest  it  has  provoked  with  the  West,  he  shall 
not  be  gratified.  Sir,  I  will  not  be  dragged  into  the  defence  of 
my  friend  from  Missouri.  The  South  shall  not  be  forced  into  a 
conflict  not  its  own.  The  gentleman  from  Missouri  is  able  to 
fight  his  own  battles.  The  gallant  West  needs  no  aid  from  the 
South  to  repel  any  attack  which  may  be  made  on  them  from 
any  quarter.  Let  the  gentleman  from  Massachusetts  controvert 
the  facts  and  arguments  of  the  gentleman  from  Missouri,  if  he  can 
—  and  if  he  win  the  victory,  let  him  wear  the  honors ;  I  shall  not 
deprive  him  of  his  laurels.  .  .  . 


THE   FRIENDS   AND   THE   ENEMIES   OF   THE   UNION 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

WHO,  then,  Mr.  President,  are  the  true  friends  of  the  Union? 
Those  who  would  confine  the  Federal  Government  strictly  within 
the  limits  prescribed  by  the  Constitution  ;  who  would  preserve  to 
the  States  and  the  People  all  powers  not  expressly  delegated ; 
who  would  make  this  a  Federal  and  not  a  National  Union,  and 
who,  administering  the  government  in  a  spirit  of  equal  justice, 
would  make  it  a  blessing,  and  not  a  curse.  And  who  are  its 
enemies  ?  Those  who  are  in  favor  of  consolidation ;  who  are 
constantly  stealing  power  from  the  States,  and  adding  strength  to 
the  Federal  Government ;  who,  assuming  an  unwarrantable  juris 
diction  over  the  States  and  the  People,  undertake  to  regulate  the 
whole  industry  and  capital  of  the  country.  But,  sir,  of  all  descrip 
tions  of  men,  I  consider  those  as  the  worst  enemies  of  the  Union, 


THE  SOUTH   CAROLINA   DOCTRINE  133 

who  sacrifice  the  equal  rights  which  belong  to  every  member  of 
the  Confederacy  to  combinations  of  interested  majorities  for  per 
sonal  or  political  objects.  But  the  gentleman  apprehends  no  evil 
from  the  dependence  of  the  States  on  the  Federal  Government ; 
he  can  see  no  danger  of  corruption  from  the  influence  of  money 
or  of  patronage.  Sir,  I  know  that  it  is  supposed  to  be  a  wise  saying 
that  "  patronage  is  a  source  of  weakness  ; "  and  in  support  of  that 
maxim  it  has  been  said  that  "  every  ten  appointments  makes  a  hun 
dred  enemies."  But  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think,  with  the  elo 
quent  and  sagacious  orator  now  reposing  on  his  laurels  on  the 
banks  of  the  Roanoke,1  that  "the  power  of  conferring  favors 
creates  a  crowd  of  dependents ;  "  he  gave  a  forcible  illustration  of 
the  truth  of  the  remark,  when  he  told  us  of  the  effect  of  holding 
up  the  savory  morsel  to  the  eager  eyes  of  the  hungry  hounds 
gathered  around  his  door.  It  mattered  not  whether  the  gift  was 
bestowed  on  "Towzer"  or  "Sweetlips,"  "Tray,"  "Blanche,"  or 
"  Sweetheart " ; 2  while  held  in  suspense,  they  were  all  governed 
by  a  nod,  and  when  the  morsel  was  bestowed,  the  expectation  of 
the  favors  of  to-morrow  kept  up  the  subjection  of  to-day.  .  .  . 


THE   SOUTH  CAROLINA   DOCTRINE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THUS  it  will  be  seen,  Mr.  President,  that  the  South  Carolina 
doctrine  is  the  Republican  doctrine  of  '98,  —  that  it"  was  promul 
gated  by  the  fathers  of  the  faith,  —  that  it  was  maintained  by  Vir 
ginia  and  Kentucky  in  the  worst  of  times,  —  that  it  constituted  the 
very  pivot  on  which  the  political  revolution  of  that  day  turned,  — 
that  it  embraces  the  very  principles,  the  triumph  of  which,  at  that 
time,  saved  the  Constitution  at  its  last  gasp,  and  which  New  Eng 
land  statesmen  were  not  unwilling  to  adopt  when  they  believed 
themselves  to  be  the  victims  of  unconstitutional  legislation.  Sir, 
as  to  the  doctrine  that  the  Federal  Government  is  the  exclusive 
judge  of  the  extent  as  well  as  the  limitations  of  its  powers,  it  seems 

1  John  Randolph.  2  See  "  King  Lear,"  III,  vi,  66. 


134  ROBERT    YOUNG  HAYNE 

to  me  to  be  utterly  subversive  of  the  sovereignty  and  independence 
of  the  States.  It  makes  but  little  difference,  in  my  estimation, 
whether  Congress  or  the  Supreme  Court  are  invested  with  this 
power.  If  the  Federal  Government,  in  all,  or  any,  of  its  depart 
ments,  is  to  prescribe  the  limits  of  its  own  authority,  and  the  States 
are  bound  to  submit  to  the  decision,  and  are  not  to  be  allowed  to 
examine  and  decide  for  themselves  when  the  barriers  of  the  Con 
stitution  shall  be  overleaped,  this  is  practically  "a  Government 
without  limitation  of  powers."  The  States  are  at  once  reduced 
to  mere  petty  corporations,  and  the  people  are  entirely  at  your 
mercy.  I  have  but  one  word  more  to  add.  In  all  the  efforts 
that  have  been  made  by  South  Carolina  to  resist  the  unconstitu 
tional  laws  which  Congress  has  extended  over  them,  she  has  kept 
steadily  in  view  the  preservation  of  the  Union,  by  the  only  means 
by  which  she  believes  it  can  be  long  preserved  —  a  firm,  manly, 
and  steady  resistance  against  usurpation.  The  measures  of  the 
Federal  Government  have,  it  is  true,  prostrated  her  interests,  and 
will  soon  involve  the  whole  South  in  irretrievable  ruin.  But  even 
this  evil,  great  as  it  is,  is  not  the  chief  ground  for  our  complaints. 
It  is  the  principle  involved  in  the  contest  —  a  principle  which, 
substituting  the  discretion  of  Congress  for  the  limitations  of  the 
Constitution,  brings  the  States  and  the  people  to  the  feet  of  the 
Federal  Government,  and  leaves  them  nothing  they  can  call  their 
own.  Sir,  if  the  measures  of  the  Federal  Government  were  less 
oppressive,  we  should  still  strive  against  this  usurpation.  The 
South  is  acting  on  a  principle  she  has  always  held  sacred  —  resist 
ance  to  unauthorized  taxation.  These,  sir,  are  the  principles 
which  induced  the  immortal  Hampden  to  resist  the  payment  of  a 
tax  of  twenty  shillings.  Would  twenty  shillings  have  ruined  his 
fortune  ?  No  !  but  the  payment  of  half  twenty  shillings,  on  the 
principle  on  which  it  was  demanded,  would  have  made  him  a 
slave.  Sir,  if  acting  on  these  high  motives  —  if  animated  by  that 
ardent  love  of  liberty  which  has  always  been  the  most  prominent 
trait  in  the  Southern  character,  we  should  be  hurried  beyond  the 
bounds  of  a  cold  and  calculating  prudence ;  who  is  there,  with 
one  noble  and  generous  sentiment  in  his  bosom,  that  would  not  be 
disposed,  in  the  language  of  Burke,  to  exclaim,  "  You  must  pardon 
something  to  the  spirit  of  liberty  "  ? 


SAM  HOUSTON  135 


SAM    HOUSTON.1 

[SAM  HOUSTON  was  born  of  Scotch-Irish  stock  in  Rockbridge  County,  Vir 
ginia,  March  2,  1793,  and  died  in  Huntsville,  Walker  County,  Texas,  July  26, 
1863.  His  people  early  moved  to  Tennessee,  and  there  the  boy  mainly 
associated  with  the  Cherokee  Indians,  by  one  of  whom  he  was  adopted.  At 
twenty  he  enlisted  in  the  army  and  served  against  the  Creek  Indians,  winning 
by  his  bravery  the  commendations  of  Andrew  Jackson.  His  connection  with 
the  army  was  honorably  terminated  after  some  trouble  with  the  War  Depart 
ment  about  the  smuggling  of  slaves  into  Florida.  Then  in  1818  he  began  to 
study  law  at  Nashville,  rose  rapidly  in  his  profession,  and  served  two  terms  in 
Congress,  during  the  latter  of  which  he  fought  a  duel.  In  1827  he  was  elected 
governor  of  Tennessee  and  seemed  a  great  favorite  with  the  people.  In  1829 
he  married,  but  soon  separated  from  his  wife  for  some  mysterious  reason.  The 
public  criticised  him  severely  and  he  left  the  state,  going  to  his  Cherokee 
father  and  living  with  the  Indians  about  three  years.  While  he  was  on  a  visit 
to  Washington  connected  with  Indian  affairs  his  integrity  was  assailed  by  a 
member  of  Congress  whom  Houston  chastised  severely.  For  this  he  was 
reprimanded  and  fined  by  the  House  of  Representatives,  but  President  Jackson 
remitted  the  fine.  Then  like  other  adventurous  spirits  he  went  to  Texas, 
where  in  1833  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  constitutional  convention,  as 
well  as  a  general.  Two  years  later  he  was  made  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Texan  forces,  and  after  the  full  declaration  of  independence  by  Texas,  he  met 
Santa  Anna  and  the  Mexicans  —  who  were  fresh  from  the  capture  of  the  Alamo 
and  from  the  massacre  at  Goliad  —  on  the  banks  of  the  San  Jacinto,  and 
inflicted  on  them  the  remarkable  defeat  described  in  the  extract  (April  21, 
1836).  Some  troubles  with  the  Texan  authorities  followed,  and  Houston 
went  to  New  Orleans  ;  but  in  October,  1836,  after  only  twelve  days'  candidacy, 
he  was  elected  President  of  Texas  by  a  large  majority.  His  term  of  two  years 
was  a  successful  one,  as  was  also  a  second  marriage  made  soon  after.  From 
December,  1841,  to  December,  1844,  he  was  again  President  of  Texas,  having 
meanwhile  served  in  the  Texan  Congress.  He  was  fortunately  strong  enough  to 
carry  the  new  republic  through  many  dangers,  and  finally,  after  some  intrigues, 
annexation  with  the  United  States  was  secured  at  the  end  of  1845.  From 
1846  to  1859  he  represented  Texas  in  the  Senate,  being  distinguished  for  his 
interest  in  Indian  legislation,  for  his  opposition  to  extreme  Southern  views, 
and  for  his  general  picturesqueness.  He  was  even  talked  of  for  the  Presi 
dency,  In  1859,  after  an  unsuccessful  candidacy,  he  was  elected  governor  of 

I  Houstgn  insisted  upon  being  known  as  Sam,  not  Samuel. 


136  SAM  HOUSTON 

Texas  as  an  independent.  As  governor  he  opposed  secession,  and,  when  the 
state  seceded,  he  refused  to  take  a  new  oath  of  allegiance,  with  the  result  that 
he  was  deposed.  But  he  would  not  accept  the  offer  of  troops  to  make  war  on 
Texas  and,  while  regretting  the  action  of  the  South,  he  stood  by  his  section  for 
the  few  years  that  were  left  him.  As  time  has  gone  by,  the  importance  of  his 
career  and  the  fine  elements  of  his  character  have  been  more  and  more  recog 
nized,  and  he  has  been  made  the  subject  of  several  biographies.  One,  by  the 
Rev.  William  C.  Crane,  late  president  of  Baylor  University  (2  vols.,  1884), 
gives,  besides  a  fairly  full  account  of  Houston's  life,  his  "  Literary  Remains," 
consisting  of  State  Papers,  Talks  to  Indian  Chiefs,  Letters  and  Documents, 
and  Speeches,  chiefly  those  delivered  in  the  Senate.  A  careful  biography  by 
A.  M.  Williams  (1893)  should  also  be  used  by  the  student,  as  well  as  such 
books  as  the  lawyer  and  soldier  Colonel  Henderson  K.  Yoakum's  (1810- 
1856)  "History  of  Texas  "  (1855-1856),  and  the  recent  "  Texas,"  by  Pro 
fessor  George  P.  Garrison  in  the  "American  Commonwealths"  series  (1903). 
Briefer  biographies  of  Houston  are  those  by  Henry  Bruce  in  the  "  Makers  of 
America"  series  (1891),  and  by  the  novelist  Miss  Sarah  Barnwell  Elliott  in 
the  "Beacon  Biographies"  (1900).] 


THE  VICTOR'S  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE   BATTLE   OF 
SAN   JACINTO1 

[FROM  HOUSTON'S  REPORT  TO  DAVID  G.  BURNET,  (PROVISIONAL)  PRESI 
DENT  OF  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  TEXAS,  MADE  FROM  SAN  JACINTO  (APRIL  25, 
1836).] 

AT  daylight  we  resumed  the  line  of  march,  and  in  a  short  dis 
tance  our  scouts  encountered  those  of  the  enemy,  and  we  received 
information  that  General  Santa  Anna  was  at  New  Washington,  and 
would  that  day  take  up  the  line  of  march  for  Anahuac,  crossing  at 
Lynch's  Ferry.  The  Texan  army  halted  within  half  a  mile  of  the 
ferry,  in  some  timber,  and  were  engaged  in  slaughtering  beeves, 
when  the  army  of  Santa  Anna  was  discovered  to  be  approaching 
in  battle  array,  having  been  encamped  at  Clopper's  Point,  eight 
miles  below.  Disposition  was  immediately  made  of  our  forces, 
and  preparation  for  his  reception.  He  took  a  position  with  his 
infantry,  and  artillery  in  the  centre,  occupying  an  island  of  timber, 
his  cavalry  covering  the  left  flank.  The  artillery,  consisting  of  one 
double  fortified  medium  brass  twelve-pounder,  then  opened  on 

1  The  text  is  taken  from  the  appendix  to  Yoakum's  "  History  of  Texas,"  Vol.  II. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  SAN  JACINTO  137 

our  encampment.  The  infantry,  in  column,  advanced  with  the 
design  of  charging  our  lines,  but  were  repulsed  by  a  discharge  of 
grape  and  canister  from  our  artillery,  consisting  of  two  six-pound 
ers.  The  enemy  had  occupied  a  piece  of  timber  within  rifle-shot 
of  the  left  wing  of  our  army,  from  which  an  occasional  interchange 
of  small  arms  took  place  between  the  troops,  until  the  enemy 
'withdrew  to  a  position  on  the  bank  of  the  San  Jacinto,  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  our  encampment,  and  commenced 
fortification. 

A  short  time  before  sunset,  our  mounted  men,  about  eighty-five  in 
number,  under  the  special  command  of  Colonel  Sherman,  marched 
out  for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitring  the  enemy.  While  advanc 
ing,  they  received  a  volley  from  the  left  of  the  enemy's  infantry, 
and,  after  a  sharp  rencounter  with  the  cavalry,  in  which  ours  acted 
extremely  well,  and  performed  some  feats  of  daring  chivalry,  they 
retired  in  good  order,  having  had  two  men  severely  wounded,  and 
several  horses  killed.  In  the  meantime,  the  infantry  under  the 
command  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Millard,  and  Colonel  Burleson's 
regiment,  with  the  artillery,  had  marched  out  for  the  purpose  of 
covering  the  retreat  of  the  cavalry,  if  necessary.  All  then  fell  back 
in  good  order  to  our  encampment  about  sunset,  and  remained 
without  ostensible  action  until  the  2ist,  at  half-past  three  o'clock, 
taking  the  first  refreshment  which  they  had  enjoyed  for  two  days. 
The  enemy  in  the  meantime  extended  the  right  flank  of  their  in 
fantry,  so  as  to  occupy  the  extreme  point  of  a  skirt  of  timber  on 
the  bank  of  the  San  Jacinto,  and  secured  their  left  by  a  fortifica 
tion  about  five  feet  high,  constructed  of  packs  and  baggage,  leav 
ing  an  opening  in  the  centre  of  the  breastwork,  in  which  their 
artillery  was  placed,  their  cavalry  upon  their  left  wing. 

About  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  2ist,  the  enemy  were 
reinforced  by  five  hundred  choice  troops,  under  the  command  of 
General  Cos,  increasing  their  effective  force  to  upwards  of  fifteen 
hundred  men,  while  our  aggregate  force  for  the  field  numbered 
seven  hundred  and  eighty-three.  At  half-past  three  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  I  ordered  the  officers  of  the  Texan  army  to  parade  their 
respective  commands,  having  in  the  meantime  ordered  the  bridge 
on  the  only  road  communicating  with  the  Brazos,  distant  eight 


138  SAM  HOUSTON 

miles  from  our  encampment,  to  be  destroyed  —  thus  cutting  off  all 
possibility  of  escape.  Our  troops  paraded  with  alacrity  and  spirit, 
and  were  anxious  for  the  contest.  Their  conscious  disparity  in  num 
bers  seemed  only  to  increase  their  enthusiasm  and  confidence,  and 
heightened  their  anxiety  for  the  conflict.  Our  situation  afforded 
me  an  opportunity  of  making  the  arrangements  preparatory  to  the 
attack  without  exposing  our  designs  to  the  enemy.  The  first  regi 
ment,  commanded  by  Colonel  Burleson,  was  assigned  to  the  centre. 
The  second  regiment,  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Sherman, 
formed  the  left  wing  of  the  army.  The  artillery,  under  the  special 
command  of  Colonel  George  W.  Hockley,  inspector-general,  was 
placed  on  the  right  of  the  first  regiment ;  and  four  companies  of 
infantry,  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Henry  Millard, 
sustained  the  artillery  upon  the  right.  Our  cavalry,  sixty-one  in 
number,  commanded  by  Colonel  Mirabeau  B.  Lamar1  (whose  gal 
lant  and  daring  conduct  on  the  previous  day  had  attracted  the 
admiration  of  his  comrades,  and  called  him  to  that  station),  placed 
on  our  extreme  right,  completed  our  line.  Our  cavalry  was  first 
dispatched  to  the  front  of  the  enemy's  left,  for  the  purpose  of  at 
tracting  their  notice,  while  an  extensive  island  of  timber  afforded 
us  an  opportunity  of  concentrating  our  forces,  and  deploying  from 
that  point,  agreeably  to  the  previous  design  of  the  troops.  Every 
evolution  was  performed  with  alacrity,  the  whole  advancing  rapidly 
in  line,  through  an  open  prairie,  without  any  protection  whatever 
for  our  men.  The  artillery  advanced  and  took  station  within  two 
hundred  yards  of  the  enemy's  breastwork,  and  commenced  an 
effective  fire  with  grape  and  canister. 

Col.  Sherman,  with  his  regiment,  having  commenced  the  action 
upon  our  left  wing,  the  whole  line,  at  the  centre  and  on  the 
right,  advancing  in  double-quick  time,  raised  the  war-cry,  "Re 
member  the  Alamo  ! "  received  the  enemy's  fire,  and  advanced 
within  point-blank  shot,  before  a  piece  was  discharged  from  our 
lines.  Our  line  advanced  without  a  halt,  until  they  were  in  pos 
session  of  the  woodland  and  the  enemy's  breastwork  —  the  right 
wing  of  Burleson's  and  the  left  wing  of  Millard's  taking  possession 

1  See  p.  158. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  SAN  JACINTO  139 

of  the  breastwork  ;  our  artillery  having  gallantly  charged  up  within 
seventy  yards  of  the  enemy's  cannon,  when  it  was  taken  by  our 
troops. 

The  conflict  lasted  about  eighteen  minutes  from  the  time  of 
close  action  until  we  were  in  possession  of  the  enemy's  encamp 
ment,  taking  one  piece  of  cannon  (loaded),  four  stand  of  colors, 
all  their  camp  equipage,  stores,  and  baggage.  Our  cavalry  had 
charged  and  routed  that  of  the  enemy  upon  the  right,  and  given 
pursuit  to  the  fugitives,  which  did  not  cease  until  they  arrived 
at  the  bridge  which  I  have  mentioned  before  —  Captain  Karnes, 
always  among  the  foremost  in  danger,  commanding  the  pursuers. 
The  conflict  in  the  breastwork  lasted  but  a  few  moments ;  many 
of  the  troops  encountered  hand  to  hand,  and,  not  having  the  ad 
vantage  of  bayonets  on  our  side,  our  riflemen  used  their  pieces 
as  war-clubs,  breaking  many  of  them  off  at  the  breech.  The  rout 
commenced  at  half-past  four,  and  the  pursuit  by  the  main  army 
continued  until  twilight.  A  guard  was  then  left  in  charge  of  the 
enemy's  encampment,  and  our  army  returned  with  their  killed  and 
wounded.  In  the  battle,  our  loss  was  two  killed  and  twenty-three 
wounded,  six  of  them  mortally.  The  enemy's  loss  was  six  hundred 
and  thirty  killed,  among  whom  was  one  general  officer,  four  colo 
nels,  two  lieutenant-colonels,  five  captains,  twelve  lieutenants ; 
wounded  two  hundred  and  eight,  of  which  were  five  colonels,  three 
lieutenant-colonels,  two  second  lieutenant-colonels,  seven  captains, 
one  cadet ;  prisoners  seven  hundred  and  thirty  —  President-Gen 
eral  Santa  Anna,  General  Cos,  four  colonels,  aides  to  General 
Santa  Anna,  and  the  colonel  of  the  Guerrero  battalion,  are  in 
cluded  in  the  number.  General  Santa  Anna  was  not  taken  until 
the  22d,  and  General  Cos  yesterday,  very  few  having  escaped. 
About  six  hundred  muskets,  three  hundred  sabres,  and  two  hun 
dred  pistols,  have  been  collected  since  the  action.  Several  hun 
dred  mules  and  horses  were  taken,  and  nearly  twelve  thousand 
dollars  in  specie. 

For  several  days  previous  to  the  action,  our  troops  were  engaged 
in  forced  marches,  exposed  to  excessive  rains,  and  the  additional 
inconvenience  of  extremely  bad  roads,  badly  supplied  with  rations 
and  clothing ;  yet,  amid  every  difficulty,  they  bore  up  with  cheer- 


140  JOHN  PENDLETON  KENNEDY 

fulness  and  fortitude,  and  performed  their  marches  with  spirit  and 
alacrity  —  there  was  no  murmuring. 


I  have  the  honor  of  transmitting  herewith  a  list  of  all  the  officers 
and  men  who  were  engaged  in  the  action,  which  I  respectfully 
request  may  be  published,  as  an  act  of  justice  to  the  individuals. 
For  the  commanding  general  to  attempt  discrimination  as  to  the 
conduct  of  those  who  commanded  in  the  action,  or  those  who 
were  commanded,  would  be  impossible.  Our  success  in  the  action 
is  conclusive  proof  of  their  daring  intrepidity  and  courage ;  every 
officer  and  man  proved  himself  worthy  of  the  cause  in  which  he 
battled,  while  the  triumph  received  a  lustre  from  the  humanity 
which  characterized  their  conduct  after  victory,  and  richly  entitles 
them  to  the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  their  general.  Nor  should 
we  withhold  the  tribute  of  our  grateful  thanks  from  that  Being 
who  rules  the  destinies  of  nations,  and  has,  in  the  time  of  greatest 
need,  enabled  us  to  arrest  a  powerful  invader  while  devastating  our 
country. 

I  have  the  honor,  &c., 

SAM  HOUSTON,   Commander-in-Chief. 


JOHN   PENDLETON   KENNEDY 

[THE  author  of  "  Horse-Shoe  Robinson  "  was  born  in  Baltimore,  October  25, 
1795,  and  died  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  August  18,  1870.  Shortly  after 
graduating  at  a  local  college,  he  fought  against  the  British  invaders  of  1814 
and  then  studied  law.  He  was  soon  sent  to  the  legislature  and  continued  for 
the  rest  of  his  life  to  take  interest  in  politics  as  well  as  in  law  and  in  literature, 
attaining  greater  success  in  the  first  and  the  last  than  is  usual  when  energies 
are  not  concentrated  on  a  single  object.  He  was  an  earnest  Whig,  an 
advocate  of  protection,  and  in  1838,  and  for  two  terms  thereafter,  was  elected 
to  Congress.  In  1852  he  was  made  Secretary  of  the  Navy  under  Plllmore, 
distinguishing  himself  by  his  encouragement  of  the  expeditions  of  Commodore 
Perry  and  Dr.  Kane.  Meanwhile  he  had  done  his  best  work  in  literature  with 
his  story  of  Virginia  life,  "  Swallow  Barn"  (1832),  and  his  popular  romance 
of  the  Revolution  in  the  South,  "Horse-Shoe  Robinson  "  (1835).  "  Rob  of 


AN  OLD  VIRGINIA  ESTATE  AND  ITS  MASTER       141 

the  Bowl,"  a  romance  of  colonial  Maryland,  appeared  in  1838,  and  a  not  very 
effective  political  satire,  "Annals  of  Quodlibet "  in  1840.  Much  better  than 
these  was  his  "  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  William  Wirt,"  in  two  volumes,  1849, 
revised  in  1 850  —  one  of  the  best  of  the  older  biographies.  Later  writings 
such  as  "  Mr.  Ambrose's  Letters  on  the  Rebellion  "  — Kennedy  was  a  stanch 
upholder  of  the  Union  during  the  Civil  War  —  and  an  account  of  his  travels  in 
Europe  did  not  add  to  his  reputation.  He  was  a  public-spirited  citizen,  and 
was  specially  interested  in  the  Peabody  Institute  of  Baltimore.  His  "Swallow 
Barn  "  and  "  Horse-Shoe  Robinson,"  though  owing  not  a  little  to  the  work  of 
Irving  and  Cooper,  deserve  to  be  remembered  as  good  in  themselves,  especially 
as  giving  faithful  pictures  of  the  scenes  they  describe.  "  Horse-Shoe  Robin 
son,"  the  hero  of  which  was  known  by  Kennedy  in  the  flesh,  is,  indeed,  one  of 
the  best  romances  of  the  Revolution,  and  is  fully  equal  to  any  single  one  of 
Simms's  series  in  the  same  field.  It  is  likely,  however,  that  the  kindness  Ken 
nedy  showed  Poe,  when  the  latter  was  a  struggling  author  in  Baltimore,  will 
preserve  his  name  better  than  many  of  the  nine  volumes  into  which  his  works 
were  collected  in  1870.  His  name  is  also  associated  with  that  of  a  great 
British  writer  on  account  of  the  story  that  Thackeray  is  said  to  have  asked  him 
to  furnish  a  chapter  for  "  The  Virginians,"  and  that  Kennedy,  in  compliance, 
wrote  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  second  volume,  which  describes  scenery  with 
which  the  Marylander  was  familiar.  That  Thackeray  made  some  such  pro 
posal  is  clear,  but  that  we  actually  read  Kennedy's  handiwork  in  "  The  Vir 
ginians  "  is  at  least  very  doubtful.  A  biography  of  Kennedy  was  added  to  the 
collected  works  of  that  writer  by  the  critic  Henry  T.  Tuckerman  in  1871.] 


AN   OLD  VIRGINIA   ESTATE   AND   ITS   MASTER 

[FROM  "  SWALLOW  BARN,  OR  A  SOJOURN  IN  THE  OLD  DOMINION."    REVISED 
EDITION,  1852.] 

SWALLOW  BARN  is  an  aristocratical  old  edifice  which  sits,  like  a 
brooding  hen,  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  James  River.  It  looks 
down  upon  a  shady  pocket  or  nook,  formed  by  an  indentation  of 
the  shore,  from  a  gentle  acclivity  thinly  sprinkled  with  oaks  whose 
magnificent  branches  afford  habitation  to  sundry  friendly  colonies 
of  squirrels  and  woodpeckers. 

This  time-honored  mansion  was  the  residence  of  the  family  of 
Hazards.  But  in  the  present  generation,  the  spells  of  love  and 
mortgage  have  translated  the  possession  to  Frank  Meriwether,  who 
having  married  Lucretia,  the  eldest  daughter  of  my  late  Uncle 


142  JOHN  PENDLETON  KENNEDY 

Walter  Hazard,  and  lifted  some  gentlemen-like  incumbrances 
which  had  been  sleeping  for  years  upon  the  domain,  was  thus 
inducted  into  the  proprietary  rights.  The  adjacency  of  his  own 
estate  gave  a  territorial  feature  to  this  alliance,  of  which  the  fruits 
were  no  less  discernible  in  the  multiplication  of  negroes,  cattle, 
and  poultry,  than  in  a  flourishing  clan  of  Meriwethers. 

The  main  building  is  more  than  a  century  old.  It  is  built  with 
thick  brick  walls,  but  one  story  in  height,  and  surmounted  by  a 
double-faced  or  hipped  roof,  which  gives  the  idea  of  a  ship  bottom 
upwards.  Later  buildings  have  been  added  to  this,  as  the  wants 
or  ambition  of  the  family  have  expanded.  These  are  all  con 
structed  of  wood,  and  seem  to  have  been  built  in  defiance  of  all 
laws  of  congruity,  just  as  convenience  required.  But  they  form 
altogether  an  agreeable  picture  of  habitation,  suggesting  the  idea 
of  comfort  in  the  ample  space  they  fill,  and  in  their  conspicuous 
adaptation  to  domestic  uses. 

The  hall  door  is  an  ancient  piece  of  walnut,  which  has  grown 
too  heavy  for  its  hinges,  and  by  its  daily  travel  has  furrowed  the 
floor  in  a  quadrant,  over  which  it  has  an  uneasy  journey.  It  is 
shaded  by  a  narrow  porch,  with  a  carved  pediment  upheld  by 
massive  columns  of  wood,  somewhat  split  by  the  sun.  An  ample 
court-yard,  inclosed  by  a  semi-circular  paling,  extends  in  front  of 
the  whole  pile,  and  is  traversed  by  a  gravel  road  leading  from  a 
rather  ostentatious  iron  gate,  which  is  swung  between  two  pillars  of 
brick  surmounted  by  globes  of  cut  stone.  Between  the  gate  and 
the  house  a  large  willow  spreads  its  arched  and  pendent  drapery 
over  the  grass.  A  bridal  rack  stands  within  the  inclosure,  and 
near  it  a  ragged  horse-nibbled  plum-tree  —  the  current  belief  being 
that  a  plum-tree  thrives  on  ill  usage  —  casts  its  skeleton  shadow 
on  the  dust. 

Some  Lombardy  poplars,  springing  above  a  mass  of  shrubbery, 
partially  screen  various  supernumerary  buildings  at  a  short  distance 
in  the  rear  of  the  mansion.  Amongst  these  is  to  be  seen  the  gable 
end  of  a  stable,  with  the  date  of  its  erection  stiffly  emblazoned  in 
black  bricks  near  the  upper  angle,  in  figures  set  in  after  the  fash 
ion  of  the  work  on  a  girl's  sampler.  In  the  same  quarter  a  pigeon- 
box,  reared  on  a  post  and  resembling  a  huge  tee-totum,  is  visible, 


AN  OLD  VIRGINIA  ESTATE  AND  ITS  MASTER       143 

and  about  its  several  doors  and  windows  a  family  of  pragmatical 
pigeons  are  generally  strutting,  bridling,  and  bragging  at  each 
other  from  sunrise  until  dark. 

Appendant  to  this  homestead  is  an  extensive  tract  of  land  which 
stretches  some  three  or  four  miles  along  the  river,  presenting  alter 
nately  abrupt  promontories  mantled  with  pine  and  dwarf  oak,  and 
small  inlets  terminating  in  swamps.  Some  sparse  portions  of 
forest  vary  the  landscape,  which,  for  the  most  part,  exhibits  a  suc 
cession  of  fields  clothed  with  Indian  corn,  some  small  patches  of 
cotton  or  tobacco  plants,  with  the  usual  varieties  of  stubble  and 
fallow  grounds.  These  are  inclosed  by  worm  fences  of  shrunken 
chestnut,  where  lizards  and  ground-squirrels  are  perpetually  running 
races  along  the  rails. 

A  few  hundred  steps  from  the  mansion,  a  brook  glides  at  a 
snail's  pace  towards  the  river,  holding  its  course  through  a  wilder 
ness  of  laurel  and  alder,  and  creeping  around  islets  covered  with 
green  mosses.  Across  this  stream  is  thrown  a  rough  bridge,  which 
it  would  delight  a  painter  to  see ;  and  not  far  below  it  an  aged 
sycamore  twists  its  roots  into  a  grotesque  framework  to  the  pure 
mirror  of  a  spring,  which  wells  up  its  cool  waters  from  a  bed  of 
gravel  and  runs  gurgling  to  the  brook.  There  it  aids  in  furnish 
ing  a  cruising  ground  to  a  squadron  of  ducks  who,  in  defiance  of 
all  nautical  propriety,  are  incessantly  turning  up  their  sterns  to  the 
skies.  On  the  grass  which  skirts  the  margin  of  the  spring,  I 
observe  the  family  linen  is  usually  spread  out  by  some  three  or 
four  negro  women,  who  chant  shrill  music  over  their  wash-tubs, 
and  seem  to  live  in  ceaseless  warfare  with  sundry  little  besmirched 
and  bow-legged  blacks,  who  are  never  tired  of  making  somer 
sets,  and  mischievously  pushing  each  other  on  the  clothes  laid 
down  to  dry. 

Beyond  the  bridge,  at  some  distance,  stands  a  prominent  object 
in  the  perspective  of  this  picture,  —  the  most  venerable  appendage 
to  the  establishment  —  a  huge  barn  with  an  immense  roof  hanging 
almost  to  the  ground,  and  thatched  a  foot  thick  with  sun-burnt 
straw,  which  reaches  below  the  eaves  in  ragged  flakes.  It  has  a 
singularly  drowsy  and  decrepit  aspect.  The  yard  around  it  is 
strewed  knee-deep  with  litter,  from  the  midst  of  which  arises  a 


144  JOHN  PENDLETON  KENNEDY 

long  rack  resembling  a  chevaux  de  frise?  which  is  ordinarily  rilled 
with  fodder.  This  is  the  customary  lounge  of  half  a  score  of  oxen 
and  as  many  cows,  who  sustain  an  imperturbable  companionship 
with  a  sickly  wagon,  whose  parched  tongue  and  drooping  swingle - 
trees,  as  it  stands  in  the  sun,  give  it  a  most  forlorn  .and  invalid 
character ;  whilst  some  sociable  carts  under  the  sheds,  with  their 
shafts  perched  against  the  walls,  suggest  the  idea  of  a  set  of  gossip 
ing  cronies  taking  their  ease  in  a  tavern  porch.  Now  and  then  a 
clownish  hobble-de-hoy  colt,  with  long  fetlocks  and  disordered 
mane,  and  a  thousand  burs  in  his  tail,  stalks  through  this  com 
pany.  But  as  it  is  forbidden  ground  to  all  his  tribe,  he  is  likely 
very  soon  to  encounter  a  shower  of  corn-cobs  from  some  of  the 
negro  men;  upon  which  contingency  he  makes  a  rapid  retreat 
across  the  bars  which  imperfectly  guard  the  entrance  to  the  yard, 
and  with  an  uncouth  display  of  his  heels  bounds  away  towards  the 
brook,  where  he  stops  and  looks  back  with  a  saucy  defiance ;  and 
after  affecting  to  drink  for  a  moment,  gallops  away  with  a  braggart 
whinny'  to  the  fields. 

*********** 

The  master  of  this  lordly  domain  is  Frank  Meriwether.  He  is 
now  in  the  meridian  of  life  —  somewhere  about  forty-five.  Good 
cheer  and  an  easy  temper  tell  well  upon  him.  The  first  has  given 
him  a  comfortable,  portly  figure,  and  the  latter  a  contemplative 
turn  of  mind,  which  inclines  him  to  be  lazy  and  philosophical. 

He  has  some  right  to  pride  himself  on  his  personal  appearance, 
for  he  has  a  handsome  face,  with  a  dark  blue  eye  and  a  fine  intel 
lectual  brow.  His  head  is  growing  scant  of  hair  on  the  crown, 
which  induces  him  to  be  somewhat  particular  in  the  management 
of  his  locks  in  that  locality,  and  these  are  assuming  a  decided 
silvery  hue. 

It  is  pleasant  to  see  him  when  he  is  going  to  ride  to  the  Court 
House  on  business  occasions.  He  is  then  apt  to  make  his  appear 
ance  in  a  coat  of  blue  broadcloth,  astonishingly  glossy,  and  with  an 

1  "  Pieces  of  timber  traversed  with  spikes  of  iron,  or  of  wood  pointed  with  iron  five 
or  six  feet  long,  used  to  defend  a  passage,  stop  a  breach,  form  an  obstacle  to  the 
advance  of  cavalry,  etc.  A  similar  contrivance  is  placed  on  the  top  of  a  wall  to  pre 
vent  persons  from  climbing  over  it." —  Century  Dictionary. 


AN  OLD   VIRGINIA  ESTATE  AND  ITS  MASTER       145 

unusual  amount  of  plaited  ruffle  strutting  through  the  folds  of  a 
Marseilles  waistcoat.  A  worshipful  finish  is  given  to  this  costume  by 
a  large  straw  hat,  lined  with  green  silk.  There  is  a  magisterial  ful 
ness  in  his  garments  which  betokens  condition  in  the  world,  and  a 
heavy  bunch  of  seals,  suspended  by  a  chain  of  gold,  jingles  as  he 
moves,  pronouncing  him  a  man  of  superfluities. 

[He  is  too  lazy  to  try  to  go  into  politics,  but  did  once  make  a 
pretence  of  studying  law  in  Richmond,  and  is  a  somewhat  auto 
cratic  justice  of  the  peace.] 

.  .  .  Having  in  this  way  qualified  himself  to  assert  and  main 
tain  his  rights,  he  came  to  his  estate,  upon  his  arrival  at 
age,  a  very  model  of  landed  gentlemen.  Since  that  time 
his  avocations  have  had  a  certain  literary  tincture ;  for  having 
settled  himself  down  as  a  married  man,  and  got  rid  of  his  super 
fluous  foppery,  he  rambled  with  wonderful  assiduity  through  a  wil 
derness  of  romances,  poems,  and  dissertations,  which  are  now 
collected  in  his  library,  and,  with  their  battered  blue  covers,  pre 
sent  a  lively  type  of  an  army  of  continentals  at  the  close  of  the  war, 
or  a  hospital  of  invalids.  These  have  all,  at  last,  given  way  to  the 
newspapers  —  a  miscellaneous  study  very  attractive  and  engrossing 
to  country  gentlemen.  This  line  of  study  has  rendered  Meriwether 
a  most  perilous  antagonist  in  the  matter  of  legislative  proceedings. 

A  landed  proprietor,  with  a  good  house  and  a  host  of  servants, 
is  naturally  a  hospitable  man.  A  guest  is  one  of  his  daily  wants.  A 
friendly  face  is  a  necessary  of  life,  without  which  the  heart  is  apt 
to  starve,  or  a  luxury  without  which  it  grows  parsimonious.  Men 
who  are  isolated  from  society  by  distance,  feel  these  wants  by  an 
instinct,  and  are  grateful  for  the  opportunity  to  relieve  them.  In 
Meriwether  the  sentiment  goes  beyond  this.  It  has,  besides,  some 
thing  dialectic  in  it.  His  house  is  open  to  everybody,  as  freely 
almost  as  an  inn.  But  to  see  him  when  he  has  had  the  good 
fortune  to  pick  up  an  intelligent,  educated  gentleman,  —  and 
particularly  one  who  listens  well !  —  a  respectable,  assentatious 
stranger  !  —  All  the  better  if  he  has  been  in  the  Legislature,  and 
better  still,  if  in  Congress.  Such  a  person  caught  within  the 
purlieus  of  Swallow  Barn,  may  set  down  one  week's  entertainment 
as  certain  —  inevitable,  and  as  many  more  as  he  likes  —  the  more 
L 


146  JOHN  PENDLETON  KENNEDY 

the  merrier.    He  will  know  something  of  the  quality  of  Meriwether's 
rhetoric  before  he  is  gone. 

Then  again,  it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  Frank's  kind  and  con 
siderate  bearing  towards  his  servants  and  dependents.  His  slaves 
appreciate  this,  and  hold  him  in  most  affectionate  reverence,  and, 
therefore,  are  not  only  contented,  but  happy  under  his  dominion. 


He  is  somewhat  distinguished  as  a  breeder  of  blooded  horses ; 
and,  ever  since  the  celebrated  race  between  Eclipse  and  Henry, 
has  taken  to  this  occupation  with  a  renewed  zeal,  as  a  matter  af 
fecting  the  reputation  of  the  state.  It  is  delightful  to  hear  him 
expatiate  upon  the  value,  importance,  and  patriotic  bearing  of  this 
employment,  and  to  listen  to  all  his  technical  lore  touching  the 
mystery  of  horse-craft.  He  has  some  fine  colts  in  training,  which 
are  committed  to  the  care  of  a  pragmatical  old  negro,  named 
Carey,  who,  in  his  reverence  for  the  occupation,  is  the  perfect 
shadow  of  his  master.  He  and  Frank  hold  grave  and  momentous 
consultations  upon  the  affairs  of  the  stable,  in  such  a  sagacious 
strain  of  equal  debate,  that  it  would  puzzle  a  spectator  to  tell 
which  was  the  leading  member  of  the  council.  Carey  thinks  he 
knows  a  great  deal  more  upon  the  subject  than  his  master,  and 
their  frequent  intercourse  has  begot  a  familiarity  in  the  old  negro 
which  is  almost  fatal  to  Meriwether's  supremacy.  The  old  man 
feels  himself  authorized  to  maintain  his  positions  according  to  the 
freest  parliamentary  form,  and  sometimes  with  a  violence  of  as 
severation  that  compels  his  master  to  abandon  his  ground,  purely 
out  of  faint-heartedness.  Meriwether  gets  a  little  nettled  by  Carey's 
doggedness,  but  generally  turns  it  off  in  a  laugh.  I  was  in  the 
stable  with  him,  a  few  mornings  after  my  arrival,  when  he  ven 
tured  to  expostulate  with  the  venerable  groom  upon  a  professional 
point,  but  the  controversy  terminated  in  its  customary  way.  "  Who 
sot  you  up,  Master  Frank,  to  tell  me  how  to  fodder  that  'ere 
cretur,  when  I  as  good  as  nursed  you  on  my  knee?  " 

"  Well,  tie  up  your  tongue,  you  old  mastiff,"  replied  Frank,  as 
he  walked  out  of  the  stable,  "  and  cease  growling,  since  you  will 
have  it  your  own  way,"  —  and  then,  as  we  left  the  old  man's 


A    COMBINATION  OF  VULCAN  AND  MARS  147 

presence,  he  added,  with  an  affectionate  chuckle  —  "a  faithful 
old  cur,  too,  that  snaps  at  me  out  of  pure  honesty ;  he  has  not 
many  years  left,  and  it  does  no  harm  to  humor  him  ! " 

*********** 


A  COMBINATION   OF  VULCAN   AND   MARS 

[FROM  "  HORSE-SHOE  ROBINSON  :  A  TALE  OF  THE  TORY  ASCENDENCY." 
REVISED  EDITION,  1852.] 

GALBRAITH  ROBINSON  was  a  man  of  altogether  rougher  mould. 
Nature  had  carved  out,  in  his  person,  an  athlete  whom  the  sculp 
tors  might  have  studied  to  improve  the  Hercules.  Every  linea 
ment  of  his  body  indicated  strength.  His  stature  was  rather 
above  six  feet ;  his  chest  broad  ;  his  limbs  sinewy,  and  remarkable 
for  their  symmetry.  There  seemed  to  be  no  useless  flesh  upon 
his  frame  to  soften  the  prominent  surface  of  his  muscles ;  and  his 
ample  thigh,  as  he  sat  upon  horseback,  showed  the  working  of 
its  texture  at  each  step,  as  if  part  of  the  animal  on  which  he  rode. 
His  was  one  of  those  iron  forms  that  might  be  imagined  almost 
bullet  proof.  With  all  these  advantages  of  person,  there  was  a 
radiant,  broad,  good  nature  upon  his  face ;  and  the  glance  of  a 
large,  clear,  blue  eye  told  of  arch  thoughts,  and  of  shrewd,  homely 
wisdom.  A  ruddy  complexion  accorded  well  with  his  sprightly, 
but  massive  features,  of  which  the  prevailing  expression  was  such 
as  silently  invited  friendship  and  trust.  If  to  these  traits  be  added 
an  abundant  shock  of  yellow,  curly  hair,  terminating  in  a  luxuriant 
queue,  confined  by  a  narrow  strand  of  leather  cord,  my  reader  will 
have  a  tolerably  correct  idea  of  the  person  I  wish  to  describe. 

Robinson  had  been  a  blacksmith  at  the  breaking  out  of  the 
Revolution,  and,  in  truth,  could  hardly  be  said  to  have  yet  aban 
doned  the  craft;  although  of  late,  he  had  been  engaged  in  a 
course  of  life  which  had  but  little  to  do  with  the  anvil,  except 
in  that  metaphorical  sense  of  hammering  out  and  shaping  the 
rough,  iron  independence  of  his  country.  He  was  the  owner  of 
a  little  farm  in  the  Waxhaw  settlement,  on  the  Catawba,  and  having 
pitched  his  habitation  upon  a  promontory,  around  whose  base  the 


148  HUGH  SWINTON  LEGAR& 

Waxhaw  creek  swept  with  a  regular  but  narrow  circuit,  this  local 
ity,  taken  in  connection  with  his  calling,  gave  rise  to  a  common 
prefix  to  his  name  throughout  the  neighborhood,  and  he  was 
therefore  almost  exclusively  distinguished  by  the  sobriquet  of 
Horse-Shoe  Robinson.  This  familiar  appellative  had  followed 
him  into  the  army. 

The  age  of  Horse-Shoe  was  some  seven  or  eight  years  in  advance 
of  that  of  Butler l  —  a  circumstance  which  the  worthy  senior  did 
not  fail  to  use  with  some  authority  in  their  personal  intercourse, 
holding  himself,  on  that  account,  to  be  like  Cassius,  an  elder,  if 
not  a  better  soldier.  On  the  present  occasion,  his  dress  was  of 
the  plainest  and  most  rustic  description :  a  spherical  crowned 
hat  with  a  broad  brim,  a  coarse  grey  coatee  of  mixed  cotton  and 
wool,  dark  linsey-woolsey  trowsers  adhering  closely  to  his  legs, 
hob-nailed  shoes,  and  a  red  cotton  handkerchief  tied  carelessly 
round  his  neck  with  a  knot  upon  his  bosom.  This  costume,  and 
a  long  rifle  thrown  into  the  angle  of  the  right  arm,  with  the 
breech  resting  on  his  pommel,  and  a  pouch  of  deer-skin,  with  a 
powder  horn  attached  to  it,  suspended  on  his  right  side,  might 
have  warranted  a  spectator  in  taking  Robinson  for  a  woodsman, 
or  hunter  from  the  neighboring  mountains. 


HUGH    SWINTON    LEGARE 

[HUGH  SWINTON  LEGARE  (pronounced  Leh-gree}  was  born  of  mingled  French 
Huguenot  and  Scotch  stock  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  January  2,  1797, 
and  died  at  Boston,  June  20,  1843.  When  he  was  a  small  boy  he  was  inocu 
lated  with  the  small-pox,  and  as  a  result  became  desperately  ill.  His  limbs 
were  affected  and,  after  he  attained  his  growth,  he  presented  the  spectacle 
of  a  man  with  a  fine,  large  head  and  chest  and  very  short  legs.  He  was 
unable  to  take  physical  exercise,  and  from  his  youth  became  a  lover  of  books. 
He  also  nursed  the  ambition  of  making  himself  an  orator.  He  studied  hard 
both  in  Charleston  and  at  Dr.  Waddell's  school  at  Willington  in  the  Abbe 
ville  District  (see  p.  116).  He  entered  South  Carolina  College  at  fourteen, 

1  Captain  Arthur  Butler,  who  holds  a  brevet  of  major  in  the  Continental  army, 
is  the  technical  hero  of  the  romance,  that  is,  he  is  the  lover  of  the  attractive 
heroine,  Mildred  Lindsay. 


HUGH  SWINTON  LEGAR&  149 

and  showed  himself  to  be  a  remarkable  student,  especially  of  the  classics, 
of  French  and  Italian,  and  of  the  masters  of  English  prose  and  verse.  It  is 
easy  to  perceive  from  his  writings  that  his  knowledge  of  literature  and  history 
was  so  broad  and  deep  as  fairly  to  be  called  astonishing,  and  that  few  if  any 
other  American  public  men  of  his  day  or  since  can  be  said  to  have  had  such  a 
foundation  of  culture  on  which  to  build.  He  graduated  in  1814  and  returned 
to  Charleston,  where  he  studied  law.  Then  he  spent  two  years  in  Europe, 
studying  for  some  time  both  in  Paris  and  in  Edinburgh,  gradually  specializing 
upon  the  civil  law  in  which  he  later  became  very  learned.  At  Edinburgh  he 
formed  a  friendship  with  George  Ticknor  of  Massachusetts,  who,  with  Legare 
and  a  Virginian  friend  of  both,  Francis  Walker  Gilmer  (see  pp.  68,  79),  may 
be  taken  to  represent  at  their  best  the  aspirations  and  attainments  of  the  schol 
arly  Americans  who  came  to  manhood  about  the  time  of  the  second  war  with 
England.  It  was  the  fortune  of  Ticknor  to  accomplish  in  his  great  "  History 
of  Spanish  Literature  "  a  scholarly  task  of  permanent  value.  His  Southern 
friends  were  cut  o'ff  early  and  did  not  concentrate  their  efforts  ;  hence  they 
do  not  live  by  their  works,  but  they  deserve  remembrance  for  their  abilities 
and  their  ideals.  In  1820  Legare  returned  to  Charleston  with  his  friend, 
William  C.  Preston  (1794-1860),  afterward  the  distinguished  orator  and 
senator  and  the  president  of  South  Carolina  College.  For  the  next  ten  years 
he  was  in  the  legislature  with  but  a  slight  intermission,  and  then  in  1830  he 
was  made  attorney-general  of  the  state.  His  advance  was  perhaps  checked 
by  the  fact  that  he  was  overeducated  for  the  work  he  had  to  do  and  for  the 
field  of  his  labors.  At  the  beginning  of  1828,  however,  he  established  The 
Southern  Review  in  collaboration  with  the  botanist,  Stephen  Elliott,  and  in 
that  able  quarterly  he  found  an  outlet  for  his  scholarly  activities.  Legare 
contributed  long  and  solid  reviews,  such  as  that  on  Moore's  "  Byron,"  from 
which  an  extract  is  given,  and  that  on  the  Charleston  litterateur,  Wflliam 
Crafts.  He  served  as  editor  for  a  period  and  secured  good  contributors,  but 
the  times  were  not  propitious,  and  four  years  saw  the  end  of  a  brilliant  enter 
prise.  In  1832  he  was  given  by  Edward  Livingston,  then  Secretary  of  State, 
an  opportunity  to  continue  his  studies  in  the  civil  law.  Legare  accepted  the 
offer  of  the  position  of  charge  d'affaires  at  Brussels,  both  because  study  was  a 
passion  with  him,  and  because  his  opposition  to  the  Nullification  movement 
had  interfered  with  his  political  advancement  in  South  Carolina.  He  re 
mained  abroad  four  years,  and  his  Diary,  his  Journal,  and  his  Letters  show 
that  he  not  only  added  greatly  to  his  stores  of  knowledge,  especially  in  Ger 
man,  but  mingled  freely  with  interesting  people  and  utilized  his  opportunities 
for  travel.  He  returned  to  America  at  the  end  of  1836  and  was  persuaded  to 
run  for  Congress.  After  securing  his  seat  with  little  effort,  he  made  a  reputa 
tion  for  himself  as  a  debater  ;  but  on  account  of  his  opposition  to  the  sub- 
treasury  scheme  he  was  defeated  at  the  next  election,  the  influence  of  Calhoun 
being  against  him.  Then  he  distinguished  himself  in  several  important  law 
cases  in  Charleston,  made  a  series  of  speeches  throughout  the  country  in  favor 


150  HUGH  S  WIN  TON  LEGAR& 

of  the  election  of  Harrison  (1840),  and  did  his  most  mature  writing  in  three 
articles  contributed  to  The  New  York  Review  on  Demosthenes,  the  Athenian 
Democracy,  and  the  Roman  Law.  In  1841  President  Tyler  made  him 
Attorney-General,  and,  after  the  withdrawal  of  Webster  from  the  Cabinet, 
Legare  discharged  for  some  months  the  duties  of  Secretary  of  State,  winning 
additional  reputation  at  a  juncture  of  our  politics  in  which  it  was  very  difficult 
to  avoid  censure.  Domestic  bereavements  and  his  own  ill  health  clouded  his 
life,  however,  and  it  was  not  his  fortune  to  be  able  to  throw  the  weight  of  his 
matured  character  and  learning  on  the  side  of  conservatism  in  the  South  and 
in  the  nation.  While  attending  with  the  President  the  Bunker  Hill  celebra 
tion  in  Boston  he  was  taken  ill  and  died  in  the  house  of  his  friend  Ticknor. 
In  1846  two  volumes  of  his  "  Writings,"  edited  by  his  sister,  were  published  in 
Charleston.  This  work  contained  a  memoir  which  doubtless  exaggerated  in  a 
pardonable  fashion  his  learning  and  his  oratorical  gifts,  but  it  also  gave,  along 
with  his  writings,  proof  of  his  fine  character  and  remarkable  attainments. 
The  poet  Hayne,  in  1878,  published  a  sketch  of  him  together  with  one  of 
Robert  Y.  Hayne,  and  two  articles  dealing  with  his  career  were  contributed  by 
Dr.  Burr  J.  Ramage  to  The  Sewanee  Revierv  for  January  and  April,  1902  ;  but 
on  the  whole  surprisingly  little  has  been  written  about  him,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  he  represents  a  combination  of  scholar  and  public  man  exceedingly  rare 
in  the  annals  of  America.] 


BYRON   AND   SCOTT 

[FROM   "WRITINGS   OF   HUGH   SWINTON    LEGARE,"  ETC.,   1846,  VOL.  II. 
"LORD  BYRON'S  CHARACTER  AND  WRITINGS."] 

ON  the  other  hand,  there  was,  amidst  all  its  irregularities,  some 
thing  strangely  interesting,  something,  occasionally,  even  grand 
and  imposing  in  Lord  Byron's  character  and  mode  of  life.  His 
whole  being  was,  indeed,  to  a  remarkable  degree,  extraordinary, 
fanciful  and  fascinating.  All  that  drew  upon  him  the  eyes  of  men, 
whether  for  good  or  evil  —  his  passions  and  his  genius,  his  enthu 
siasm  and  his  woe,  his  triumphs  and  his  downfall  —  sprang  from 
the  same  source,  a  feverish  temperament,  a  burning,  distempered, 
insatiable  imagination ;  and  these,  in  their  turn,  acted  most  power 
fully  upon  the  imagination  and  the  sensibility  of  others.  We  well 
remember  a  time — it  is  not  more  than  two  lustres1  ago  —  when 
we  could  never  think  of  him  ourselves  but  as  an  ideal  being — 
a  creature,  to  use  his  own  words,  "  of  loneliness  and  mystery " 

1  Ten  years. 


A    COURT  DINNER  151 

—  moving  about  the  earth  like  a  troubled  spirit,  and  even  when 
in  the  midst  of  men,  not  of  them.  The  enchanter's  robe  which 
he  wore  seemed  to  disguise  his  person,  and,  like  another  famous 
sorcerer  and  sensualist  — 

...  he  hurled 

His  dazzling  spells  into  the  spungy  air, 
Of  pow'r  to  cheat  the  eye  with  blear  illusion 
And  give  it  false  presentments.1 

It  has  often  occurred  to  us,  as  we  have  seen  Sir  Walter  Scott 
diligently  hobbling  up  to  his  daily  task  in  the  Parliament  House 
at  Edinburgh,  and  still  more  when  we  have  gazed  upon  him  for 
hours  seated  down  at  his  clerk's  desk,  with  a  countenance  of  most 
demure  and  business-like  formality,  to  contrast  him,  in  that  situa 
tion,  with  the  only  man,  who  had  not  been,  at  the  time,  totally 
overshadowed  and  eclipsed  by  his  genius.  It  was,  indeed,  a  won 
derful  contrast !  Never  did  two  such  men  —  competitors  in  the 
highest  walks  of  creative  imagination  and  deep  pathos  —  present 
such  a  strange  antithesis  of  moral  character,  and  domestic  habits 
and  pursuits,  as  Walter  Scott  at  home,  and  Lord  Byron  abroad. 

A  COURT   DINNER 

[FROM  THE  SAME.  .  VOL.  I.    FROM  A  LETTER  TO  LEGARE'S  SISTERS,  DATED 
BRUSSELS,  MARCH  24,  1833.] 

AT  table,  the  fashion  in  Europe  is  not  like  yours,  for  the  master 
of  the  house  to  sit  at  one  end,  and  the  mistress  at  the  other.  The 
place  of  honor  is  at  the  side  and  at  the  middle  of  the  board. 
When  I  dined  at  Neuilly,2  the  queen  sat  on  one  side,  and  the  king 
opposite  to  her  on  the  other,  but  Leopold3  and  Louise  are  insepa 
rable,  at  least  at  dinner,  —  and,  judging  from  their  most  amiable 
characters  and  affectionate  dispositions,  I  should  suppose  every 
where  else.  The  Grand  Marshal  of  the  palace,  here,  always  takes 

1  See  "  Comus,"  153-156. 

2  The  Chateau  de  Neuilly,  just  outside  Paris,  was  the  favorite  residence  of  Louis 
Philippe. 

3  Leopold  I  (1790-1865),  elected  king  of  the  Belgians  in  1831.    The  next  year 
he  married  the  Princess^ Louise,  daughter  of  Louis  Philippe,  king  of  the  French. 


152  HUGH  SWINTON  LEGAR& 

his  place  opposite  to  their  Majesties.  And  so  it  was  on  the 
occasion  in  question.  On  the  right  of  the  King  sat  the  Queen  of 
the  French,  on  her  right  the  Queen  of  the  Belgians,  next  to  her 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  next  the  Duchess  d'Arenberg,  next  Count  de 
Latour  Maubourg,  etc.,  etc.  On  the  left  of  the  King  was  the  Princess 
Marie,  next  the  English  ambassador,  etc.  The  Grand  Marshal 
had  on  his  right  the  Lady  of  Honor  handed  in  by  the  Duke 
d'Arenberg,  on  whose  right  sat  the  Duke  himself;  on  the  left  was 
Madame  d'Hoogvorst,  and  next  to  her  your  humble  servant,  —  so 
that  I  sat  immediately  opposite  the  Queen  of  the  Belgians,  whose 
sweet,  modest  face  I  am  never  tired  of  looking  upon.  The  dinner 
was  served  with  the  highest  magnificence  of  the  Court,  —  the 
crowd  of  servants  in  waiting  being  decked  out  in  their  most  showy 
liveries,  (scarlet  and  gold  for  some,  while  others  wore  a  more 
modest  uniform,  with  swords  at  their  sides,)  — and  the  table  itself 
covered  with  gold  and  silver,  and,  at  the  dessert,  with  Sevres 
china.  —  This  last,  which  is  the  most  beautiful  painted  china, 
manufactured  near  Paris,  at  a  cost  of  300  francs  (sixty  dollars)  a 
plate,  was  a  bridal  present  to  the  queen  from  her  father.  A  grand 
band  of  music  played  the  most  fashionable  and  admired  pieces  of 
the  great  German  and  Italian  masters,  at  intervals  during  the  dinner, 

—  which,  in  all  other  respects,  went  off  just  as  Court  dinners  always 
do,  with  the  gravest  decorum,  —  a  conversation  confined  to  two, 

—  with  no  variety  except  an  occasional  change  from  right  to  left, 
when  one  or  the  other  of  your  neighbors,  as  it  happens,  is  run  out 
of  small  talk,  and  carried  on,  of  course,  in  a  sort  of  whisper. 
Certainly,  however,  it  must  be  confessed  that  a  vast  table,  covered 
with  so  much  magnificence,  and  surrounded  by  ladies  and  gentle 
men,  —  the  former  sparkling  with  diamonds,  the  latter  all  in  Court 
embroidery,  —  presents  a  very  brilliant  coup  tfml}     I  was  never 
before  so  much  struck  with  the  effect  of  precious  stones  in  a  lady's 
toilette,  as  with  the  richly-coloured  beams  of  light  that  glittered 
about  the  neck  and  head  of  the  Duchess  d'Arenberg,  —  a  very 
fine  woman,  about  thirty-five,  who  was  arrayed  in  more  than  the 
glory  of  Solomon.     The  worst  of  a  dinner  at  Court  is  that,  after 
having  got  through  the  tedious  formalities  of  the  reception  and 

1  Spectacle  —  covered  by  a  "  sweep  of  the  eye." 


EXPENSIVE  LIVING  153 

the  execution,  (they  endure  a  couple  of  hours  or  so,)  the  whole 
company  is  marched  back  into  the  salle  de  reception,  where  coffee 
is  served  with  liqueurs,  and  there  are  sometimes  kept  standing 
(for  none  but  the  ladies  who  take  their  places  at  the  queen's 
round  table  after  dinner,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  are  allowed  to 
sit)  sometimes  for  another  hour,  or  hour  and  a  half.  For  me, 
whose  habit  is  and  always  has  been,  if  possible, -to  stretch  myself 
off  at  full  length  upon  a  sofa,  or,  at  least,  recline  quite  at  my  ease 
after  dinner,  this  part  of  my  diplomatic  duties  —  aggravated,  as  it 
is,  by  being  buttoned  up  close  in  a  uniform  coat  made  last  summer, 
when  I  was  by  no  means  in  such  good  case  as  I  am  now  —  is 
quite  a  serious  task. 

EXPENSIVE   LIVING 

• 

[FROM  THE  SAME.    VOL.  I.    FROM  "DIARY  OF  BRUSSELS,"  ENTRY  OF 
JUNE  25,  1833.] 

.  .  .  SEE  Lady  Wm.  Paget,  who  comes  up  to  me  and  expresses 
her  regrets  that  she  was  not  in  when  I  called  yesterday  to  give  her 
an  airing;  begs  I  will  advertise  her  in  the  morning,  whenever  I  have 
such  intentions.  Hear  Mrs.  Northey  has  been  excessively  ill  of 
the  grippe  ; *  leave  my  card  and  condolence.  At  dinner,  in  a  very 
ill  humor  at  the  whole  economy  of  my  house.  Excess  immeasurable 
when  I  am  alone,  —  stinted  and  bad  fare  when  I  have  company ; 
and  that,  when  the  most  costly  things  are  in  the  garde-manger? 
they  are  reserved  for  the  gouterz  of  my  servants  and  their  friends. 
Confound  the  whole  race, —  they  torment  me  to  death.  Call  for 
my  butcher's  book,  which  I  have  not  seen  for  three  weeks,  during 
which  time  I  have  dined  out  at  least  twelve  days,  find  what  has 
been  supplied  this  month  already  amounts  to  185  or  190  Ibs. 
of  meat !  and  that  for  four  mouths  in  twenty-five  days,  and  some 
bouillon  the  night  of  my  party.  Can't  stand  this. 

1  One  of  the  earliest  instances  of  the  use  of  this  word  in  English. 

2  Larder.  8  A  lunch  or  light  repast. 


154  FRANCIS  LISTER  HAWKS 


FRANCIS   LISTER   HAWKS 

[FRANCIS  LISTER  HAWKS  was  born  at  Newbern,  North  Carolina,  June  10, 
1798,  and  died  in  New  York  City,  September  26,  1866.  He  graduated  at  the 
University  of  North  Carolina  in  1815,  and  then  studied  law  and  practised  with 
great  success.  He  also  took  a  hand  in  politics  and  was  a  popular  speaker. 
But  feeling  that  a  secular  life  was  not  for  him,  he  turned  to  the  Episcopal 
Church,  and,  after  studying  theology,  he  was  ordained  deacon  and  priest  and 
took  a  charge  in  New  Haven,  Connecticut  (1827).  From  this  time,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  two  short  periods,  he  was  a  resident  of  the  North  ;  but  his  love  for 
his  native  state  is  fully  illustrated  in  his  labors  on  the  colonial  history  of  North 
Carolina.  His  life  was  a  very  busy  one,  and  only  a  few  of  his  charges  and  his 
literary  undertakings  can  be  enumerated  here.  In  1831  he  was  called  to  New 
York,  where,  as  rector  of  St.  Thomas's  Church,  he  was  noted  for  his  eloquent 
sermons.  He  remained  in  this  charge  until  1843,  when  he  removed  to  Missis 
sippi  on  account  of  debts  incurred  through  the  failure  of  a  school  in  which 
he  was  interested.  Meanwhile  he  had  refused  a  bishopric,  had  been  made 
historiographer l  of  his  church,  in  which  capacity  he  had  issued  two  volumes 
of  ecclesiastical  history  dealing  with  Virginia  and  Maryland,2  and  had  founded  3 
The  New  York  Review,  a  solid  quarterly  which  ran  for  six  years  (1837-1843). 
Among  its  contributors,  besides  Dr.  Hawks,  were  two  distinguished  Southern 
ers,  Hugh  S.  Legare  (^.^.)  and  Edgar  Allan  Poe  (^.  •£>.)•  In  J^44  Dr.  Hawks 
was  elected  bishop  of  Mississippi,  but  in  view  of  unjustified  criticism  of  his 
financial  troubles  he  declined  the  position.  The  same  year  he  took  charge 
of  Christ  Church,  New  Orleans,  where  he  remained  until  1849,*  when  he 
returned  to  New  York  and  began  another  and  a  successful  pastorate.  In 
1852  he  declined  to  be  bishop  of  Rhode  Island  and,  in  1859,  to  be  professor 
of  history  in  his  alma  mater.  Sympathizing  with  the  South,  he  served  a 
parish  in  Baltimore  from  1862  to  1865,  then  returned  to  New  York  to  a  new 
congregation,  and  died  shortly  afterward.  He  was  the  editor  of  many  works 
of  a  historical  and  biographical  character,  as  well  as  the  author  of  numerous 

"  !  This  post  involved  many  months  of  research  in  England  in  1836. 

2  On  page  72  the  names  of  several  writers  on  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  the 
South  are  given.  To  these  should  be  added  that  of  Dr.  Frederick  Dalcho  (1770- 
1836),  who  left  medicine  for  the  ministry  and  in  1820  published  an  important  "  His 
torical  Account  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  South  Carolina." 

8  In  connection  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  C.  S.  Henry.  Dr.  Hawks's  most  important 
article  was  a  hostile  and  widely  criticised  one  on  Jefferson. 

4  He  also  served  as  first  president  of  the  University  of  Louisiana. 


COLONIAL  PIRACY  155 

articles;  and  while  his  original  historical  works  have  not  escaped  censure,  he 
deserves  an  honorable  place  among  the  scholars  of  the  ante-bellum  period, 
without  whose  labors  the  task  of  modern  historians  would  have  been  far 
more  onerous.  A  "  Memorial  Volume  "  containing  a  sketch  of  Dr.  Hawks  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  N.  S.  Richardson  was  published  in  1867.] 


COLONIAL   PIRACY 

[FROM  "  HISTORY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA."    1858.] 

NOR  was  that  day,  any  more  than  later  times,  free  from  the 
depredations  of  piracy.  Indeed,  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  early 
history  of  the  colonies  seems  rather  to  have  favored  the  opera 
tions  of  the  sea-robber.  The  sparse  population  of  the  country 
afforded  but  few,  and  often  no  spectators  of  the  secluded  coves 
and  hiding-places  in  the  West  Indies,  and  on  the  extended 
coast  of  the  continent ;  while  the  laxity  of  supervision  and  in 
difference  of  the  mother  country  in  the  protection  of  her  colo 
nies,  left  the  freebooters  all  the  opportunity  they  could  desire 
for  successfully  pursuing  their  lawless  calling.  We  read  of 
pirates  in  the  early  history  alike  of  New  York,  Pennsylvania, 
Delaware,  Virginia,  Carolina,  and  the  West  Indies. 

This  nefarious  business  appears  to  have  commenced  early  on 
the  Atlantic  coast  of  America.  A  privateer,  or  rather  pirate, 
called  the  Royal  Jamaica  manned  by  forty  seamen,  arrived  off 
the  coast  of  South  Carolina  some  time  in  the  year  1691-2. 
This  vessel  had  been  engaged  in  robbery  with  great  success, 
and  brought  into  the  country  a  large  amount  of  Spanish  gold 
and  silver.  By  their  money  and  freedom  of  intercourse  with 
the  inhabitants,  the  freebooters  made  themselves  popular ;  and 
though  the  proprietors  directed  Ludwell,  their  governor,  rigidly 
to  enforce  the  English  laws  against  piracy,  yet  such  was  the 
feeling  of  the  people  that  a  trial  even  was  difficult,  and  a  con 
viction  almost  impossible.  Most  of  the  pirates  escaped  punish 
ment,  purchased  lands  from  the  colonists,  and  became  permanent 
inhabitants  of  the  country. 

Such  a  paradise  for  villains  was  sure  to  invite  them.  In 
1699,  a  motley  gang  of  English,  French,  Portuguese,  and 


156  FRANCIS  LISTER  HAWKS 

Indians,  to  the  number  of  forty-five,  manned  a  ship  at  Havana, 
and  commenced  their  piratical  career.  They  came  upon  the 
coast  of  South  Carolina  and  began  their  murders  and  robberies. 
It  so  chanced  that  at  that  time  the  southern  colony  was  export 
ing  large  quantities  of  rice,  and  several  vessels  from  Charleston 
were  seized  by  these  thieves,  and  retained  as  prizes,  after 
sending  their  crews  on  shore.  However  agreeable  it  might 
have  been,  at  an  earlier  day,  to  countenance  these  villains  when 
they  stole  from  others  and  shared  the  plunder  with  the  inhab 
itants  of  South  Carolina,  these  latter  took  a  very  different  view 
of  piracy  when  they  were  made  its  victims.  Accordingly,  when, 
on  a  quarrel  among  the  freebooters,  the  English  were  turned 
adrift  in  a  boat,  and  landing  on  the  coast,  travelled  over  land  to 
Charleston,  they  were  recognized  by  three  ship-masters  out  of 
that  port  who  had  been  robbed  by  them,  and  on  their  testimony 
seven  out  of  nine  were  hanged. 

During  the  administration  of  Gov.  Craven  in  South  Carolina, 
which  commenced  in  1710,  the  trade  of  that  colony  had  very 
much  increased,  and  was  carried  on  chiefly  in  British  ships. 
The  lords  proprietors  had  leased  their  property  in  the  Bahama 
Islands  to  a  company  of  merchants  wrho  found  it  unprofitable, 
and  consequently  gave  it  but  little  attention.  This  combination  of 
circumstances  was  too  favorable  to  be  overlooked  by  the  pirates. 

European  wars  prevented  the  English  government  from  sup 
pressing  piracy  on  our  coast ;  the  lords  proprietors  were  unwill 
ing  or  unable  to  encounter  the  expense ;  the  colonists  could  but 
partially  put  down  the  evil ;  the  island  of  Providence  in  the 
Bahamas  was  looked  after  by  neither  owners  nor  lessees,  and 
formed  a  most  convenient  place  for  head-quarters.  These  cir 
cumstances  were  too  propitious  to  be  left  unimproved.  Making 
the  Bahamas  their  chief  rendezvous,  a  body  of  desperate  villains 
were  accustomed  to  push  out  on  the  ocean,  or  cruise  in  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  commit  their  depredations  on  commerce. 
For  five  years  they  held  their  robber  reign,  and  plundered  and 
took  the  vessels  of  every  nation  without  distinction,  hastes  hu- 
mani  generis?  They  had  their  hiding-places  all  along  the  coast 
1  Enemies  of  the  human  race. 


COLONIAL  PIRACY  157 

of  both  Carolinas.  On  our  coast,  they  took  their  prizes  into  the 
mouth  of  Cape  Fear  River,  which  was  a  rendezvous  second 
only  in  importance  to  Providence,  and  sometimes  into  Ocracoke 
and  our  harbor  of  Beaufort.  Their  success  naturally  allured 
companions,  and  they  became  an  organized  body  of  buccaneers, 
too  strong  to  be  handled  by  any  inconsiderable  power.  They 
were  ultimately  dislodged  from  Providence  by  Capt.  Wood[e]s 
Rogers,1  commanding  a  squadron  of  the  British  navy. 

But  after  the  suppression  of  those  on  the  island  of  Providence, 
the  pirates  of  Carolina  still  remained.  The  king,  on  the  appli 
cation  of  the  merchants  and  ship-masters,  had  issued  a  procla 
mation  offering  pardon  to  all  who,  within  twelve  months,  would 
surrender  themselves.  When  Rogers  appeared  at  Providence 
with  a  force  for  their  suppression,  all  the  pirates,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  some  ninety,  headed  by  one  Vane,  took  advantage  of 
the  proclamation.  Of  these,  thirty  made  the  Cape  Fear  their 
head-quarters  (the  plantations  in  that  region,  made  by  Yeaman's 
colony  long  before,  having  been  for  some  years  abandoned),  and 
committed  large  depredations,  especially  on  the  commerce  of 
Charleston.  There  was  a  private  sloop  of  ten  guns,  commanded 
by  Steed  Bonnet,  and  another  of  six,  commanded  by  Richard 
Worley.  The  colonists  despairing  of,  or  at  least  not  receiving 
any  aid  to  put  them  down,  resolved  to  take  the  matter  into  their 
own  hands.  Accordingly,  Governor  Robert  Johnson  of  South 
Carolina  fitted  out  two  sloops,  and  gave  the  command  of  them 
to  Col.  William  Rhett,  with  orders  to  cruise  off  the  coast  for  the 
protection  of  trade.  Rhett  had  scarcely  crossed  the  bar,  when 
he  spied  Bonnet's  vessel,  which  he  chased  into  the  mouth  of  the 
Cape  Fear  and  captured,  and  returned  to  Charleston  with  his 
prize,  bringing  as  prisoners  the  commander  and  about  thirty  of 

1  There  seems  to  be  little  need  to  annotate  all  the  proper  names  in  this  and  simi 
lar  extracts,  but  Captain  Woodes  Rogers  (1665-1732)  ought  not  to  be  passed  over, 
since  it  was  he  who  commanded  the  ships  that  rescued  Alexander  Selkirk  in  1709. 
He  gave  an  account  of  this  rescue  and  his  voyage  in  a  "  Narrative  of  a  Cruise 
around  the  World"  (1712)  which  Defoe  probably  used  as  the  basis  for  "  Robinson 
Crusoe,"  unless  the  story  that  Selkirk  gave  Defoe  documents  can  be  substantiated. 
The  mention  of  Defoe  reminds  us  that  no  one  has  given  a  better  idea  of  the  life  led 
by  the  sailors  and  buccaneers  of  the  time  than  that  great  novelist  in  several  of  his 
books.. 


158  MIRABEAU  BUONAPARTE  LAMAR 

his  crew.  Soon  after,  the  governor  himself  embarked  in  pursuit 
of  Worley,  and,  after  a  desperate  engagement  off  the  bar  of 
Charleston,  in  which  all  the  pirates  were  killed,  except  Worley 
and  one  of  his  crew  (who  would  not  surrender  until  they  were 
dangerously  wounded),  came  into  the  harbor  with  his  prize,  and 
these  two  desperadoes  as  prisoners.  For  fear  they  might  die 
before  they  could  be  hanged,  they  were  instantly  tried  and 
executed.  Bonnet  and  his  crew  were  also  tried,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  one  man,  paid  the  penalty  of  their  crimes  on  the 
gallows.1 


MIRABEAU    BUONAPARTE   LAMAR 

[MIRABEAU  BUONAPARTE  LAMAR  was  a  member  of  a  Huguenot  family  well 
known  in  Georgia  and  Mississippi,  especially  in  the  latter  state  through  the 
public  services  of  the  late  Senator  Lucius  Quintus  Cincinnatus  Lamar  (<^.z/.),  a 
nephew  of  the  man  of  action  and  poet  with  whom  we  have  to  deal.  Mirabeau 
Lamar  —  whose  Christian  name,  as  well  as  that  of  his  nephew,  would  seem  to 
throw  light  on  the  political  ideals  of  the  family  —  was  born  in  Louisville, 
Georgia,  August  16,  1798,  and  died  in  Richmond,  Texas,  December  19,  1859. 
He  was  a  farmer  and  merchant  until  he  was  thirty,  when  he  became  an  editor 
and  politician,  achieving  local  distinction  by  his  political  writings.  In  1835 
he  emigrated  to  Texas,  joined  the  revolutionists,  and  fought  at  San  Jacinto.2 
He  was  made  a  member  of  the  cabinet,  later  first  vice-president,  and  from 
1838  to  1841  president  of  the  Texan  republic.  He  was  specially  interested  in 
public  education  and  in  the  suppression  of  political  corruption,  and  was  noted 
for  his  eloquence,  his  courage,  and  his  outspoken  honesty.  When  the  Mexican 
War  broke  out,  he  joined  Taylor's  army,  and  later  commanded  a  company  of 
Texan  rangers  and  kept  the  Indians  in  check.  His  next  public  services  were 
diplomatic  and  were  rendered  a  decade  later,  when  he  was  minister  to 
Argentina  (1857),  Costa  Rica,  and  Nicaragua  (1858).  Just  before  he  accepted 
his  first  post,  he  published  a  volume  of  "  Verse  Memorials  "  3  (1857),  and  while 

1  See  in  connection  with  this  whole  subject,  Shirley  C.  Hughson's  "  Carolina 
Pirates  and  Colonial  Commerce  "  in  the  "  Johns  Hopkins  University  Studies  in 
Historical  and  Political  Science"  (1894). 

2  See  p.  138. 

8  This  volume  is  probably  the  most  extraordinary  repository  of  extempore  effu 
sions  addressed  by  a  gallant  gentleman  to  lovely  ladies  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
range  of  our  literature.  The  belles  of  nearly  every  important  Georgia  town  and  of 
the  chief  cities  of  the  other  Southern  states  are  celebrated  in  easy  stanzas,  and 
Mexican  beauties  and  Northern  poetesses  are  not  neglected.  Byron  is  obviously 


THE  DAUGHTER    OF  MENDOZA  159 

his  name  is  naturally  familiar  to  all  interested  in  the  history  of  Texas,  it  is  as 
the  genuine,  if  minor,  poet,  who  wrote  the  lilting  and  sparkling  stanzas  entitled, 
"  The  Daughter  of  Mendoza,"  that  he  most  appeals  to  readers  of  the  present 
day.] 

THE  DAUGHTER  OF  MENDOZA1 

[FROM  MAYES'S  "  Lucius  Q.  C.  LAMAR  :   His  TIMES  AND  SPEECHES." 

1896.] 

O  LEND  to  me,  sweet  nightingale, 

Your  music  by  the  fountains, 
And  lend  to  me  your  cadences, 

O  river  of  the  mountains  ! 
That  I  may  sing  my  gay  brunette, 
A  diamond  spark  in  coral  set, 
Gem  for  a  prince's  coronet  — 

The  daughter  of  Mendoza. 

How  brilliant  is  the  morning  star ! 

The  evening  star,  how  tender  ! 
The  light  of  both  is  in  her  eye, 

Their  softness  and  their  splendor. 
But  for  the  lash  that  shades  their  light 
They  were  too  dazzling  for  the  sight ; 
And  when  she  shuts  them,  all  is  night  — 

The  daughter  of  Mendoza. 

O  !  ever  bright  and  beauteous  one, 

Bewildering  and  beguiling, 
The  lute  is  in  thy  silvery  tones, 

The  rainbow  in  thy  smiling. 

our  poet's  model  —  he  actually  wrote  a  somewhat  Don-Juanish  "  Sally  Riley  "  in 
two  cantos  —  but  in  his  encomiastic  ebulliency  Lamar  owed  little  to  anyone  but 
his  genial  Southern  self.  Not  infrequently  his  verses  suggest  those  of  Edward 
Coate  Pinckney  (g.v.),  and  they  certainly  prove,  especially  those  addressed  to 
"Isabella"  and  "  Carmelita,"  that  "The  Daughter  of  Mendoza"  was  no  merely 
accidental  success. 

1  Said  to  be  the  last  poem  Lamar  wrote  and  inspired  by  a  beautiful  woman  he 
met  in  Central  America.  See  Mayes's  "  Lucius  Q.  C.  Lamar,"  p.  17.  Thanks  are 
due  to  ex-Chancellor  Mayes  for  permission  to  reprint  the  poem  from  his  book. 


I6O  EDWARD   CO  ATE  PINKNEY 

And  thine  is,  too,  o'er  hill  and  dell, 
The  bounding  of  the  young  gazelle, 
The  arrow's  flight  and  ocean's  swell  — 
Sweet  daughter  of  Mendoza  ! 

What  though,  perchance,  we  meet  no  more  ? 

What  though  too  soon  we  sever  ? 
Thy  form  will  float  like  emerald  light, 

Before  my  vision  ever. 
For  who  can  see  and  then  forget 
The  glories  of  my  gay  brunette  ? 
Thou  art  too  bright  a  star  to  set  — 

Sweet  daughter  of  Mendoza  ! 


EDWARD   COATE   PINKNEY 

[EDWARD  COATE  (or  COOTE)  PINKNEY  was  born  October  i,  1802,  in  London, 
where  his  father,  William  Pinkney  (1764-1822),  the  distinguished  Maryland 
orator,,  lawyer,  and  diplomatist,  was  acting  as  Commissioner  for  the  United 
States.  The  early  years  of  the  son  were  passed  in  England,  but  in  1811  his 
father  brought  him  home  to  Baltimore,  where  he  received  at  St.  Mary's  College 
an  education  which  was  cut  short  by  his  admission  to  the  navy.  He  saw 
much  of  Europe  and  served  for  six  years,  resigning  in  1822  on  account  of  a 
quarrel  with  his  commodore,  with  whom  he  wished  to  fight  a  duel.1  Then  he 
studied  law  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1824.  This  was  the  year  of  his 
marriage  to  Miss  Georgiana  McCausland,  the  lady  to  whom  he  is  said  to 
have  addressed  his  charming  lyric,  "The  Serenade."2  His  poetry  was  not 
attractive  to  clients,  but  the  thin  volume  of  1825,  "  Rodolph,  and  Other 
Poems," 3  though  it  showed  plainly  his  indebtedness  to  Wordsworth  and 
Byron,  contained  a  few  pieces,  such  as  "A  Healfh"  and  "A  Picture- 
Song,"  which  won  him  considerable  praise  throughout  the  country.  He 
could  not  live  on  this,  however,  so  he  tried  to  join  the  Mexican  navy,  then 
engaged  in  the  war  of  independence;  but  killing  a  Mexican  in  a  duel,  he  was 
compelled  to  escape  before  he  had  an  opportunity  to  enlist.  After  his  return 

1  It  is  also  said  that  he  resigned  on  account  of  his  father's  death. 

2  It  is  sometimes  stated  that  this  poem  and  Pinkney's  other  love  verses  were 
inspired  by  a  Baltimore  belle,  Miss  Mary  Hawkins,  who  did  not  return  the  poet's- 
devotion. 

8  The  title  poem  had  been  published  anonymously  in  Baltimore  in  1823. 


ITALY  l6l 

to  Baltimore,  in  a  sad  plight  of  poverty  and  sickness,  he  was  given  the  unsala- 
ried  position  of  professor  of  rhetoric  and  belles-lettres  in  the  University  of 
Maryland.  A  few  months  before  his  death  he  was  made  editor  of  The  Mary- 
lander,  a  paper  established  in  the  interests  of  John  Quincy  Adams.  But  his 
strength  was  worn  out  and  he  died  in  Baltimore  on  April  n,  1828.  He  had 
inherited  in  no  small  degree  the  talents  of  the  family,  —  his  uncle  Ninian  wrote 
a  very  popular  book  of  travels  descriptive  of  southern  France,  and  his  own 
brother  Frederick  was  something  of  a  poet,  —  and  perhaps  if  he  had  lived 
longer  and  cultivated  his  art,  he  would  have  taken  a  very  fair  rank  among 
American  writers  of  verse.  Even  as  it  is,  few  American  lyrists  are  surer  of 
immortality  than  this  author  of  two  or  three  happily  inspired  songs.  His 
poems  were  reissued  in  1838  ;  in  1844  they  appeared  in  "The  Mirror  Library," 
with  a  notice  by  N.  P.  Willis,  and  in  1850,  in  Morris  and  Willis's  "  Prose  and 
Poetry  of  Europe  and  America."  See  an  article  in  The  Sewanee  Review  for 
May,  1898,  by  the  late  Professor  Charles  Hunter  Ross  of  Auburn,  Alabama, 
himself  a  promising  Southern  scholar  and  writer  prematurely  cut  off.] 


ITALY 

[FROM  THE  REPRINT  OF  "PINKNEY'S  POEMS"  IN  "THE  MIRROR  LIBRARY, 
THE  Rococo,  No.  2."  1844.] 


KNOW'ST  thou  the  land  *  which  lovers  ought  to  choose  ? 

Like  blessings  there  descend  the  sparkling  dews ; 

In  gleaming  streams  the  crystal  rivers  run, 

The  purple  vintage  clusters  in  the  sun ; 

Odours  of  flowers  haunt  the  balmy  breeze, 

Rich  fruits  hang  high  upon  the  vernant 2  trees ; 

And  vivid  blossoms  gem  the  shady  groves, 

Where  bright-plumed  birds  discourse  their  careless  loves. 

Beloved  !  —  speed  we  from  this  sullen  strand 

Until  thy  light  feet  press  that  green  shore's  yellow  sand. 

Look  seaward  thence,  and  naught  shall  meet  thine  eye 
But  fairy  isles,  like  paintings  on  the  sky ; 

1  Cf.  Goethe's  "  Kennst  du  das  Land,"  Mignon's  song  in  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"also 
Coleridge's  fragmentary  version,  and  the  opening  of  Byron's  "  Bride  of  Abydos." 

2  So  in  "  The  Mirror  Library "  edition,  and  in  Duyckinck's  "  Cyclopaedia  of 
American  Literature." 

M 


1 62  EDWARD   CO  ATE  PINKNEY 

And,  flying  fast  and  free  before  the  gale, 
The  gaudy  vessel  with  its  glancing  sail ; 
And  waters  glittering  in  the  glare  of  noon, 
Or  touched  with  silver  by  the  stars  and  moon, 
Or  flecked  with  broken  lines  of  crimson  light 
When  the  far  fisher's  fire  affronts  the  night. 
Lovely  as  loved !  towards  that  smiling  shore 
Bear  we  our  household  gods,  to  fix  for  evermore. 

It  looks  a  dimple  on  the  face  of  earth, 

The  seal  of  beauty,  and  the  shrine  of  mirth ; 

Nature  is  delicate  and  graceful  there, 

The  place's  genius,  feminine  and  fair : 

The  winds  are  awed,  nor  dare  to  breathe  aloud ; 

The  air  seems  never  to  have  borne  a  cloud, 

Save  where  volcanoes  send  to  heaven  their  curled 

And  solemn  smokes,  like  altars  of  the  world. 

Thrice  beautiful !  —  to  that  delightful  spot 

Carry  our  married  hearts,  and  be  all  pain  forgot. 

There  Art  too  shows,  when  Nature's  beauty  palls, 
Her  sculptured  marbles,  and  her  pictured  walls ; 
And  there  are  forms  in  which  they  both  conspire 
To  whisper  themes  that  know  not  how  to  tire  : 
The  speaking  ruins  in  that  gentle  clime 
Have  but  been  hallowed  by  the  hand  of  time, 
And  each  can  mutely  prompt  some  thought  of  flame 
The  meanest  stone  is  not  without  a  name. 
Then  come,  beloved  !  —  hasten  o'er  the  sea 
To  build  our  happy  hearth  in  blooming  Italy. 


A  PICTURE-SONG 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

How  may  this  little  tablet  feign  the  features  of  a  face, 
Which  o'er-informs  with  loveliness  its  proper  share  of  space ; 


A  PICTURE-SONG  163 

Or  human  hands  on  ivory  enable  us  to  see 

The  charms,  that  all  must  wonder  at,  thou  work  of  gods,  in  thee  ! 

But  yet,  methinks,  that  sunny  smile  familiar  stories  tells, 
And  I  should  know  those  placid  eyes,  two  shaded  crystal  wells ; 
Nor  can  my  soul,  the  limner's  art  attesting  with  a  sigh, 
Forget  the  blood  that  deck'd  thy  cheek,  as  rosy  clouds  the  sky. 

They  could  not  semble  what  thou  art,  more  excellent  than  fair, 
As  soft  as  sleep  or  pity  is,  and  pure  as  mountain-air ; 
But  here  are  common,  earthly  hues,  to  such  an  aspect  wrought, 
That  none,  save  thine,  can  seem  so  like  the  beautiful  of  thought. 

The  song  I  sing,  thy  likeness  like,  is  painful  mimicry 

Of  something  better,  which  is  now  a  memory  to  me, 

Who  have  upon  life's  frozen  sea  arrived  the  icy  spot 

Where  men's  magnetic  feelings  show  their  guiding  task  forgot. 

The  sportive  hopes,  that  used  to  chase  their  shifting  shadows  on, 
Like  children  playing  in  the  sun,  are  gone  —  forever  gone ; 
And  on  a  careless,  sullen  peace,  my  double- fronted  mind, 
Like  Janus  when  his  gates  were  shut,  looks  forward  and  behind. 

Apollo  placed  his  harp,  of  old,  a  while  upon  a  stone, 

Which  has  resounded  since,  when  struck,  a  breaking  harp-string's 

tone  j * 

And  thus  my  heart,  though  wholly  now,  from  early  softness  free, 
If  touch'd,  will  yield  the  music  yet,  it  first  received  of  thee. 


SONG 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

WE  break  the  glass,  whose  sacred  wine 
To  some  beloved  health  we  drain, 

Lest  future  pledges,  less  divine, 

Should  e'er  the  hallowed  toy  profane 

l  Cf.  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  VIII,  13  (Weber). 


1 64  EDWARD  CO  ATE  PINKNEY 

And  thus  I  broke  a  heart,  that  poured 
Its  tide  of  feeling  out  for  thee, 

In  draughts,  by  after-times  deplored, 
Yet  dear  to  memory. 

But  still  the  old  impassioned  ways 

And  habits  of  my  mind  remain, 
And  still  unhappy  light  displays 

Thine  image  chambered  in  my  brain, 
And  still  it  looks  as  when  the  hours 

Went  by  like  flights  of  singing  birds, 
Or  that  soft  chain  of  spoken  flowers. 

And  airy  gems,  thy  words. 


A  SERENADE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

LOOK  out  upon  the  stars,  my  love, 

And  shame  them  with  thine  eyes, 
On  which,  than  on  the  lights  above, 

There  hang  more  destinies. 
Night's  beauty  is  the  harmony 

Of  blending  shades  and  light ; 
Then,  Lady,  up,  —  look  out,  and  be 

A  sister  to  the  night !  — 

Sleep  not !  —  thine  image  wakes  for  aye, 

Within  my  watching  breast : 
Sleep  not !  —  from  her  soft  sleep  should  fly, 

Who  robs  all  hearts  of  rest. 
Nay,  Lady,  from  thy  slumbers  break, 

And  make  this  darkness  gay, 
With  looks,  whose  brightness  well  might  make 

Of  darker  nights  a  day. 


A  HEALTH  1 65 

A   HEALTH1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  FILL  this  cup  to  one  made  up 

Of  loveliness  alone, 
A  woman,  of  her  gentle  sex 

The  seeming  paragon ; 
To  whom  the  better  elements 

And  kindly  stars  have  given 
A  form  so  fair,  that,  like  the  air, 

'Tis  less  of  earth  than  heaven.2 

Her  every  tone  is  music's  own, 

Like  those  of  morning  birds, 
And  something  more  than  melody 

Dwells  ever  in  her  words ; 
The  coinage  of  her  heart  are  they, 

And  from  her  lips  each  flows 
As  one  may  see  the  burthened  bee 

Forth  issue  from  the  rose. 

Affections  are  as  thoughts  to  her, 

The  measures  of  her  hours ; 
Her  feelings  have  the  fragrancy, 

The  freshness,  of  young  flowers  ; 
And  lovely  passions,  changing  oft, 

So  fill  her,  she  appears 
The  image  of  themselves  by  turns,  — 

The  idol  of  past  years  ! 

1 "  Written  in  honor  of  Mrs.  Rebecca  Somerville,  of  Baltimore  "  (Weber). 
2  These  lines  recall  the  beautiful  verses  to  be  found  in  one  of  Pinkney's  best 
poems,  "  The  Indian  Bride,"  which  may  be  read  in  Duyckinck's  "  Cyclopaedia"  :  — 

Exchanging  lustre  with  the  sun, 

A  part  of  day  she  strays  — 
A  glancing,  living,  human  smile, 

On  nature's  face  that  plays. 


1 66  EDWARD    CO  ATE  PINKNEY 

Of  her  bright  face  one  glance  will  trace 

A  picture  on  the  brain, 
And  of  her  voice  in  echoing  hearts 

A  sound  must  long  remain ; 
But  memory  such  as  mine  of  her 

So  very  much  endears, 
When  death  is  nigh,  my  latest  sigh 

Will  not  be  life's,  but  hers. 

I  fill  this  cup  to  one  made  up 

Of  loveliness  alone, 
A  woman,  of  her  gentle  sex 

The  seeming  paragon  — 
Her  health  !  and  would  on  earth  there  stood 

Some  more  of  such  a  frame, 
That  life  might  be  all  poetry, 

And  weariness  a  name. 


SONG 

THOSE  starry  eyes,  those  starry  eyes, 

Those  eyes  that  used  to  be 
Unto  my  heart  as  beacon-lights 

To  pilgrims  of  the  sea  !  — 

I  see  them  yet,  I  see  them  yet, 

Though  long  since  quenched  and  gone  — 
I  could  not  live  enlumined  by 

The  common  sun  alone. 

Could  they  seem  thus,  could  they  seem  thus, 

If  but  a  memory?  — 
Ah,  yes  !  upon  this  wintry  earth, 

They  burn  no  more  for  me. 


CHARLES  ETIENNE  ARTHUR    GAYARRE  1 6? 


CHARLES    ETIENNE   ARTHUR   GAYARRE 

[CHARLES  ETIENNE  ARTHUR  GAYARRE,  the  well-known  historian  of  Louisi 
ana,  was  born  in  New  Orleans,  January  9, 1805,  and  died  there  February  1 1, 1895. 
He  was  educated  in  the  city,  early  became  conspicuous  for  his  interest  in  law 
and  in  public  affairs,  studied  law  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  Philadelphia, 
and  in  1830  began  to  practise  in  New  Orleans.  He  rose  rapidly  both  in  his 
profession  and  in  politics,  and  in  1835  was  elected  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  His  health,  however,  prevented  his  taking  his  seat  and  forced  him  to 
spend  several  years  in  Europe.  Returning  in  1844,  he  became  prominent  again 
in  state  politics  and  devoted  himself  also  to  the  history  of  colonial  Louisiana. 
His  first  historical  work  was  in  French,  "  Histoire  de  la  Louisiane"  (1847). 
Then  followed  "  Romance  of  the  History  of  Louisiana  "  (1848) ;  "  Louisiana  : 
its  Colonial  History  and  Romance"  (1851);  "Louisiana,  its  History  as  a 
French  Colony"  (1851-1852);  and  "History  of  the  Spanish  Domination  in 
Louisana"  (1854).  In  1866  he  gathered  his  work  into  a  complete  "History 
of  Louisiana,"  in  three  volumes,  bringing  the  narrative  down  to  1861,  and  in 
1885  a  final  edition  of  this  complete  work  appeared  in  four  volumes.  Mean 
while  Judge  Gayarre  —  for  he  had  early  been  raised  to  the  bench  —  had  been 
secretary  of  state  for  the  commonwealth,  had  sided  heartily  with  the  Con 
federate  cause,  and  after  the  war  had  served  as  reporter  to  the  state  supreme 
court.  He  had  also  attempted  lighter  forms  of  literature,  in  addition  to  a  bi 
ography  of  Philip  II  of  Spain  (1866).  "  Fernando  de  Lemos,  Truth  and 
Fiction  "  (1872),  was  a  novel  which,  while  not  altogether  successful  as  a  whole, 
contained  some  interesting  episodes  and  good  descriptions  of  New  Orleans. 
Ten  years  later  he  published  a  sequel,  "  Aubert  Dubayet."  He  also  tried  his 
hand  at  satirizing  politics  in  dramatic  form,  and  delivered  addresses  and  wrote 
articles.  It  is  as  the  scholarly,  authoritative,  and  interesting  historian  of 
Louisiana  that  he  is,  however,  best  remembered.  The  romantic  character 
of  much  of  his  material  and  his  literary  skill  raise  him  above  the  average 
local  historian,  and  give  him  an  honorable  place  among  American  writers. 
See  the  biographical  sketch  by  Miss  Grace  King  (g.v.}  prefixed  to  the 
recent  edition  of  Gayarre's  "History"  (1903).  Also  Davidson's  " Living 
Writers  of  the  South"  (1869)  and  Duyckinck's  " Cyclopaedia  of  American 
Literature"  (revised  edition),  Vol.  II,  pp.  226-231.  The  poet 'Paul  Hayne 
contributed  two  articles  on  Gayarre  to  the  fifth  volume  of  The  Southern 
Bivouac.  Professor  Alcee  Fortier  of  Tulane  University,  in  a  letter  to  the 
editor,  says  that  he  used  to  see  every  day  the  "Tree  of  the  Dead"  described 
in  the  extracts,  but  that  it  died  many  years  ago.] 


1 68  CHARLES  ETIENNE  ARTHUR    GAYARRE 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF    THE     NATCHEZ     AND     OTHER 
SOUTHERN   INDIANS 

[FROM  "LOUISIANA:  ITS  COLONIAL  HISTORY  AND  ROMANCE,"  1851. 
THIRD  LECTURE.] 

THE  Indians  were  not  free  from  some  of  those  vices  which  are  so 
prevalent  among  us,  and  which  a  high  state  of  moral  and  intellectual 
cultivation  has  failed  so  far  to  eradicate.  For  instance,  gamesters, 
although  held  in  bad  repute,  were  common  among  them;  and 
there  was  one  particular  game  which  they  preferred  above  all 
others.  It  could  be  played  by  two  only ;  one  darted  a  long  pole, 
in  the  shape  of  a  bishop's  cross,  and  at  the  same  time,  before  the 
pole  fell  to  the  ground,  hurled  down  on  its  edge,  in  the  same 
direction,  a  heavy  circular  stone  in  the  shape  of  a  wheel,  while  the 
other  player  also  flung  his  pole.  He  whose  pole  was  nearest  to 
the  stone  when  it  stopped  rolling,  won  a  point,  and  had  the  throw 
ing  of  both  pole  and  stone,  which  was  a  great  advantage,  as  he 
could  measure  their  velocity  so  as  to  make  them  meet.  As  it  is 
with  us,  the  Indians  generally  began  with  playing  for  trifles,  but 
when  excited,  they  raised  their  stakes,  and  ended  often  by  losing 
all  their  worldly  possessions.  Human  nature  is  always  the  same 
at  bottom,  however  modified  it  may  be  at  the  surface,  whether  it 
remains  in  the  original  nakedness  of  barbarism,  or  conceals  itself 
under  the  varied  garments  of  civilization. 

The  women  also  had  their  game,  but  it  was  a  very  innocent 
one,  because  they  never  staked  anything  for  fear  of  offending  their 
husbands.  They  played  three  by  three,  with  three  pieces  of  differ 
ently  painted  reeds,  nine  inches  long,  with  one  side  flat  and  the 
other  convex.  One  of  the  players  held  the  three  pieces  in  her 
open  palm;  one  of  the  other  players  struck  them  with  a  small 
rod.  They  fell  to  the  ground,  and  if  two  of  the  reeds  had  their 
convex  sides  up,  it  constituted  the  winning  of  a  point.  This  cer 
tainly  was  a  very  sinless  way  for  the  Indian  ladies  of  fashion  to 
while  away  a  wearisome  hour. 

The  French,  so  famous  for  their  politeness,  were  struck  with  the 


CHARACTERISTICS   OF  SOUTHERN  INDIANS         169 

innate  courtesy  of  the  Indians,  and  have  expressed  their  admiration 
in  pages  which  are  now  lying  before  us.  If  an  Indian  met  a 
Frenchman,  he  went  up  to  him,  took  and  squeezed  his  hand,  and 
with  a  gentle  inclination  of  the  head,  exclaimed  "fs  it  fhou,  my 
friend?"  and  if  he  had  nothing  to  say  worthy  of  utterance,  he 
passed  on  without  indulging  in  idle  conversation  —  a  proof  of 
infinite  good  sense,  and  a  thing  well  deserving  of  imitation. 

Should  an  Indian  overtake  a  Frenchman  in  walking,  he  never 
would  pass  before  him,  and  would  patiently  follow  behind  at  some 
distance.  But  if  in  a  hurry,  he  would  deviate  from  the"  path,  take 
a  long  circuit  so  as  to  keep  out  of  the  stranger's  sight,  and  come 
back  to  his  direct  way  at  a  considerable  distance  ahead. 

On  their  receiving  a  visit,  they  shook  the  visitor's  hand,  and 
after  a  few  words  of  greeting,  they  invited  him  to  sit  down,  gener 
ally  on  a  bed  used  for  this  purpose.  Then  a  profound  silence 
was  observed,  until  the  visitor,  after  a  few  minutes  of  rest,  thought 
proper  to  speak.  After  he  had  spoken,  the  wife  of  the  person  who 
was  visited  brought  what  victuals  she  might  have  ready,  and  her 
husband  said  to  the  visitor,  "  eat."  It  was  necessary  to  taste  of 
every  thing  that  was  presented,  otherwise  it  would  have  been  looked 
upon  as  a  demonstration  of  contempt  or  fastidiousness. 

However  numerous  the  Indians  might  be  when  they  met  to  con 
verse,  there  was  but  one  who  spoke  at  a  time,  and  he  was  never 
interrupted.  In  their  public  councils,  the  greatest  decorum  pre 
vailed,  and  each  one  in  his  turn,  if  he  chose,  addressed  the  meeting, 
which  was  composed  of  as  good  listeners  as  any  orator  might  wish 
for.  When  a  question  had  been  discussed,  and  had  to  be  put  to 
the  vote,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  was  allowed  for  silent  meditation, 
and  then  the  sense  of  the  assembly  was  taken.  The  impetuous 
volubility  of  the  French  was  to  them  a  matter  of  surprise ;  and 
they  could  not  help  smiling  when  they  saw  the  French  talk  to 
gether  with  such  vehement  gesticulations,  all  of  them  speaking  at 
the  same  time,  and  none  of  them  listening.  Le  Page  du  Pratz 
relates  with  great  simplicity  of  heart,  that  he  had  remarked  the 
smile  which  flitted  on  the  lips  of  the  Indians  on  such  occasions, 
and  that  for  more  than  two  years  he  had  inquired  of  the  Indians 
for  the  cause  of  it,  without  obtaining  any  other  answer  than  this 


CHARLES  ETIENNE  ARTHUR    GAYARRE 

one  —  "  What  is  it  to  thee  ?  It  does  not  concern  thee"  At  last, 
one  of  them  yielding  to  his  solicitations,  said,  "  My  friend,  do  not 
be  angry  then,  if  I  tell  thee  the  truth,  which  by  thy  importunity 
is  forced  out  of  me.  If  we  smile  when  we  see  the  French  talk 
together,  it  is  because  we  are  exceedingly  amused,  and  because 
they  put  us  in  mind  of  a  cackling  flock  of  frightened  geese." 

THE  TREE  OF  THE   DEAD 

[FROM  THE  SAME.    FOURTH  LECTURE.] 

IN  a  lot  situated  at  the  corner  of  Orleans  and  Dauphine  streets, 
in  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  there  is  a  tree  which  nobody  looks  at 
without  curiosity  and  without  wondering  how  it  came  there.  For 
a  long  time,  it  was  the  only  one  of  its  kind  known  in  the  state,  and 
from  its  isolated  position,  it  has  always  been  cursed  with  sterility. 
It  reminds  one  of  the  warm  climes  of  Africa  or  Asia,  and  wears  the 
aspect  of  a  stranger  of  distinction  driven  from  his  native  country. 
Indeed,  with  its  sharp  and  thin  foliage,  sighing  mournfully  under 
the  blast  of  one  of  our  November  northern  winds,  it  looks  as  sor 
rowful  as  an  exile.  Its  enormous  trunk  is  nothing  but  an  agglom 
eration  of  knots  and  bumps,  which  each  passing  year  seems  to 
have  deposited  there  as  a  mark  of  age,  and  as  a  protection  against 
the  blows  of  time  and  of  the  world.  Inquire  for  its  origin,  and 
every  one  will  tell  you  that  it  has  stood  there  from  time  imme 
morial.  A  sort  of  vague  but  impressive  mystery  is  attached  to  it, 
and  it  is  as  superstitiously  respected  as  one  of  the  old  oaks  of 
Dodona.  Bold  would  be  the  axe  that  should  strike  the  first  blow 
at  that  foreign  patriarch ;  and  if  it  were  prostrated  to  the  ground 
by  a  profane  hand,  what  native  of  the  city  would  not  mourn  over 
its  fall,  and  brand  the  act  as  an  unnatural  and  criminal  deed  ?  So, 
long  live  the  date-tree  of  Orleans-street  —  that  time-honored  de 
scendant  of  Asiatic  ancestors  ! 

In  the  beginning  of  1727,  a  French  vessel  of  war  landed  at  New 
Orleans  a  man  of  haughty  mien,  who  wore  the  Turkish  dress,  and 
whose  whole  attendance  was  a  single  servant.  He  was  received 
by  the  governor  with  the  highest  distinction,  and  was  conducted 


THE    TREE    OF   THE  DEAD  I /I 

by  him  to  a  small  but  comfortable  house  with  a  pretty  garden, 
then  existing  at  the  corner  of  Orleans  and  Dauphine  streets,  and 
which,  from  the  circumstance  of  its  being  so  distant  from  other 
dwellings,  might  have  been  called  a  rural  retreat,  although  situated 
in  the  limits  of  the  city.  There  the  stranger,  who  was  understood 
to  be  a  prisoner  of  state,  lived  in  the  greatest  seclusion;  and 
although  neither  he  nor  his  attendant  could  be  guilty  of  indis 
cretion,  because  none  understood  their  language,  and  although 
Governor  Pe"rier  severely  rebuked  the  slightest  inquiry,  yet  it 
seemed  to  be  the  settled  conviction  in  Louisiana,  that  the  mysteri 
ous  stranger  was  a  brother  of  the  Sultan,  or  some  great  personage 
of  the  Ottoman  empire,  who  had  fled  from  the  anger  of  the  vice 
gerent  of  Mohammed,  and  who  had  taken  refuge  in  France.  The 
Sultan  had  peremptorily  demanded  the  fugitive,  and  the  French 
government,  thinking  it  derogatory  to  its  dignity  to  comply  with 
that  request,  but  at  the  same  time  not  wishing  to  expose  its 
friendly  relations  with  the  Moslem  monarch,  and  perhaps  desiring, 
for  political  purposes,  to  keep  in  hostage  the  important  guest  it 
had  in  its  hands,  had  recourse  to  the  expedient  of  answering  that 
he  had  fled  to  Louisiana,  which  was  so  distant  a  country  that  it 
might  be  looked  upon  as  the  grave,  where,  as  it  was  suggested,  the 
fugitive  might  be  suffered  to  wait  in  peace  for  actual  death,  with 
out  danger  or  offence  to  the  Sultan.  Whether  this  story  be  true 
or  not  is  now  a  matter  of  so  little  consequence  that  it  would  not 
repay  the  trouble  of  a  strict  historical  investigation. 

The  year  1727  was  drawing  to  its  close,  when  on  a  dark,  stormy 
night,  the  howling  and  barking  of  the  numerous  dogs  in  the  streets 
of  New  Orleans  were  observed  to  be  fiercer  than  usual,  and  some 
of  that  class  of  individuals  who  pretend  to  know  everything,  de 
clared  that,  by  the  vivid  flashes  of  the  lightning,  they  had  seen 
swiftly  and  stealthily  gliding  toward  the  residence  of  the  unknown 
a  body  of  men.who  wore  the  scowling  appearance  of  malefactors 
and  ministers  of  blood.  There  afterward  came  also  a  report  that 
a  piratical-looking  Turkish  vessel  had  been  hovering  a  few  days 
previous  in  the  bay  of  Barataria.  Be  it  as  it  may,  on  the  next 
morning  the  house  of  the  stranger  was  deserted.  There  were  no 
traces  of  mortal  struggle  to  be  seen  ;  but  in  the  garden  the  earth 


1/2  MATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY 

had  been  dug,  and  there  was  the  unmistakable  indication  of  a 
recent  grave.  Soon,  however,  all  doubts  were  removed  by  an 
inscription  in  Arabic  characters,  which  was  affixed  to  a  post,  and 
which  was  sent  to  France  to  be  deciphered.1  It  ran  thus  :  "  The 
justice  of  heaven  is  satisfied,  and  the  date-tree  shall  grow  on  the 
traitor's  tomb.  The  sublime  Emperor  of  the  faithful,  the  sup 
porter  of  the  faith,  the  omnipotent  master  and  Sultan  of  the 
world,  has  redeemed  his  vow.  God  is  great,  and  Mohammed  is 
his  prophet.  Allah  !  "  Some  time  after  this  event,  a  foreign-look 
ing  tree  was  seen  to  peep  out  of  the  spot  where  a  corpse  must 
have  been  deposited  in  that  stormy  night,  when  the  rage  of  the 
elements  yielded  to  the  pitiless  fury  of  man,  and  it  thus  explained 
in  some  degree  this  part  of  the  inscription,  "  the  date- tree  shall 
grow  on  the  traitor's  grave." 

Who  was  he,  or  what  had  he  done,  who  had  provoked  such 
relentless  and  far-seeking  revenge?  Ask  Nemesis,  or — at  that 
hour  when  evil  spirits  are  allowed  to  roam  over  the  earth,  and 
magical  invocations  are  made  —  go,  and  interrogate  the  tree  of 
the  dead. 


MATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY 

[MATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY  was  born  of  Huguenot  stock  in  Spottsylvania 
County,  Virginia,  January  24,  1806,  and  died  in  Lexington,  Virginia,  Febru 
ary  I,  1873.  He  became  a  midshipman  in  1825,  took  a  cruise  of  the  world, 
and  was  gradually  promoted.  In  1834  he  published  "  Maury's  Navigation," 
which  was  used  as  a  naval  text-book.  In  1837  ne  became  lieutenant  and 
declined  to  be  astronomer  to  the  Wilkes  expedition  to  the  South  Seas.  Two 
years  later  he  became  lame  through  an  accident,  and  was  thus  forced  to  con 
fine  himself  to  the  theoretical  side  of  his  profession.  He  wrote  many  essays 
and  papers,2  which  led  both  to  naval  reforms  and  to  the  founding  of  the  Naval 
Academy  at  Annapolis.  He  took  interest  in  canal  and  river  navigation,  par 
ticularly  in  connection  with  the  Mississippi,  as  a  highway  of  inland  commerce. 
In  1842  he  was  made  superintendent  of  the  hydrographical  work  of  the  gov 
ernment  and  shortly  after  was  given  charge  of  the  national  observatory.  This 

1  Later  Gayarre  substituted  "  a  marble  tablet "  for  the  "  post." 

2  Especially  "  Scraps  from  the  Luclcy-Bag  "  by  "  Harry  Bluff,"  which  appeared  in 
The-  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  and  other  articles  in  the  same  periodical. 


MATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY  173 

gave  him  the  opportunity  he  had  long  desired  to  prosecute  his  study  of  winds  and 
currents,  and  of  achieving  results  highly  creditable  to  him,  though  scarcely,  it 
appears,  of  permanent  validity.  His  labors  culminated,  the  year  after  he  was 
made  commander,1  in  the  publication  of  his  "  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea" 
(1856),  which  was  widely  translated.  He  was  honored  by  many  foreign  gov 
ernments,  and  was  declared  by  Humboldt  to  be  the  founder  of  a  new  science. 
His  varied  and  remarkable  suggestions  for  the  advancement  of  commerce  cul 
minated  in  his  indication  of  how  the  Atlantic  cable  should  be  and  finally  was 
laid.  When  the  Civil  War  came  on,  he  gave  his  services  to  Virginia,  refusing 
advantageous  offers  from  foreign  governments.  He  did  go  abroad,  however, 
to  conduct  submarine  experiments  in  the  interest  of  the  Confederacy.  After 
the  war  he  went  to  Mexico,  for  it  was  expected  that  many  Confederates 
would  flock  thither,  and  there  he  entered  the  cabinet  of  the  ill-fated  Maxi 
milian.  Turned  adrift  by  the  fall  of  the  emperor,  Maury  went  to  England, 
where  he  resided  until  1868,  when,  after  refusing  Louis  Napoleon's  offer  to 
place  him  at  the  head  of  the  imperial  observatory  at  Paris,  he  accepted  the 
chair  of  physics  in  the  Virginia  Military  Institute  at  Lexington.  Here, 
patriotic  to  the  last,  he  devoted  himself  to  a  study  of  the  physical  resources 
and  needs  of  his  native  state.  He  is  plainly  the  best  known  scientist  produced 
by  the  Old  South,  and  as  his  pen  was  constantly  in  use  he  deserves  a  place 
among  important  Southern  writers.2  Besides  his  "  Physical  Geography  of 

1  Strictly  speaking  he  was  not  advanced  until  1858,  but  the  appointment  dated 
from  1855.     For  an  account  of  his  much  resented  treatment  by  the  Naval  Retiring 
Board  see  Mrs.  Corbin's  biography,  Chapter  VIII. 

2  It  should  not  be  thought  that  Maury  was  the  only  scientific  student  of  eminence 
of  whom  the  Old  South  can  boast.     The  great  ornithologist,  John  James  Audubon 
(1780-1851),  was  born  in  New  Orleans,  and  the  wife  who  aided  him  so  much  in  his 
labors  on  the  famous  "  Birds  of  America  "  taught  school,  with  his  help,  in  Mississippi 
and  Louisiana.     He  was  assisted  in  his  "  Quadrupeds  of  America "  by  the  Rev. 
John  Bachman  (1790-1874),  who  although  not  a  native  was  long  a  resident  of 
Charleston,  South  Carolina.     The  Charleston  botanist,  Stephen  Elliott,  has  been 
already  mentioned  (see  p.  69).     The  Le  Contes  were  a  family  of  scientists,  two  of 
the  most  famous  of  them,  John  and  Joseph  (1823-1901),  having  been  born  in  Georgia 
and  having  respectively  taught  physics  and  geology  there  before  they  transferred 
their   services  before  the  war  to  South  Carolina  College  at  Columbia,  and  in 
1869  to  the  University  of  California.     Other  names  might  easily  be  added;  but 
those  given,  when  considered  in  connection  with  the  work  of  Maury  and  with 
that  of  many  distinguished  Southern  born  physicians  and  surgeons  like  Dr.  James 
Marion  Sims  should  suffice  to  show  that,  while  the  South  for  many  reasons  has  not 
been  a  propitious  field  for  scientific  work,  the  reproach  of  sterility  does  not  lie  so 
heavily  against  the  section  as  is  often  thought.   These  names,  and  especially  that  of 
Maury,  also  suggest  how  much  the  South  and  America  at  large  owe  to  the  admira 
ble  Huguenot  stock  which  was  forced  by  religious  persecution  to  seek  a  home  in 
the  new  world.     In  this  connection  see  the  interesting  volume  by  Maury's  cousin, 
Ann  Maury  (1805-1876),  "  Memoirs  of  a  Huguenot  Family"  (1853),  which  gives, 
among  other  things,  a  translation  of  the  autobiography  of  an  ancestor,  the  Rev. 


1/4  MATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY 

the  Sea,"  Maury  wrote  a  series  of  Geographies  widely  used  in  schools  and  a 
number  of  technical  articles  and  books.  The  selection  from  his  "  Letters  on 
the  Amazon  "  illustrates  well  his  interest  in  a  branch  of  American  commerce 
which  half  a  century  later  was  much  in  the  public  mind  on  account  of  the 
choice  of  the  Panama  route  for  an  interoceanic  canal.  See  the  life  by  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Corbin  (London,  1888).] 


FREE  NAVIGATION   OF   THE  AMAZON 

[FROM  "THE  AMAZON  AND  THE  ATLANTIC  SLOPES  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA." 
WASHINGTON,  1853.] 

THE  policy  of  the  United  States  is  the  "  policy  of  commerce," 
and  we  do  not  wish  to  be  on  any  terms  with  Brazil  but  those  of 
peace  and  good-will.  We  buy  now  half  of  all  her  coffee,  and 
coffee  is  her  great  staple.  She  is  a  good  customer  of  ours  too, 
and  we  value  highly  our  present  friendly  relations  with  her ;  but 
as  highly  as  we  value  them,  we  value  still  more  the  everlasting 
principles  of  right. 

We  want  nothing  exclusive  up  the  Amazon  ;  but  we  are  nearer 
to  the  Amazon,  or  rather  to  the  mouth  of  it,  than  any  other  nation, 
not  even  excepting  Brazil  herself,  if  we  count  the  distance  in 
time,  and  measure  from  Rio  de  Janeiro,  and  from  New  York  or 
New  Orleans  as  the  centres  of  the  two  countries.  And,  there 
fore,  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  this  miserable  policy  by  which 
Brazil  has  kept  shut  up,  and  is  continuing  to  keep  shut  up,  from 
man's  —  from  Christian,  civilized,  enlightened  man's  —  use  the 
fairest  portion  of  God's  earth,  will  be  considered  by  the  American 
people  as  a  nuisance,  not  to  say  an  outrage. 

China  wants  to  trade  with  us,  but  Japan  stands  by  the  way 
side,  and  shuts  herself  up  and  out  of  the  world.  She  is  not 
in  the  fellowship  of  nations,  and  we  send  a  fleet 1  there  to  remind 
her  that  she  cannot  be  in  the  world  and  live  out  of  it  at  one  and 

James  Fontaine,  and  the  "  Journal  of  John  Fontaine,"  in  the  latter  of  which  the 
reader  will  find  interesting  glimpses  of  Robert  Beverley  (q.v.),  and  an  account  of 
Governor  Spotswood's  expedition  across  the  Blue  Ridge.      The  "Letters  of  the 
Rev.  James  Maury,"  contained  in  the  same  book,  give  glimpses  of  Patrick  Henry. 
1  Perry's  expedition. 


FREE  NAVIGATION  OF  THE  AMAZON  175 

the  same  time.  God  has  put  the  land  she  occupies  on  this  earth, 
and  she  cannot  take  it  away  by  her  policy. 

The  five  Spanish- American  republics 1  want  to  trade  up  and 
down  the  Amazon ;  but  Brazil,  worse  than  Japan  on  the  wayside, 
stands  right  in  the  doorway ',  and  says,  "  Nay,  I  will  neither  use 
the  Amazon  myself,  nor  permit  others  to  use  it.  That  great 
up-country  shall  remain  a  social  and  a  commercial  blank  to  blot 
the  face  of  the  earth." 

Is  it  the  policy  of  the  great  commercial  nations  to  permit  that  ? 
No,  it  is  no  more  their  policy  than  a  state  of  war,  and  not  of  peace, 
is  their  policy. 

In  fine,  the  people  of  this  country  cannot  look  with  indifference 
at  the  policy  Brazil  has  pursued,  and  seems  disposed  to  continue 
to  pursue,  with  regard  to  the  Amazon. 

She  and  her  rulers  have  had  it  for  300  years,  and  the  first 
practical  step  towards  subduing  it  and  developing  its  resources 
has  yet  to  be  taken. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  appears  to  me  that  Brazil,  if  she 
persist  in  her  dog-in-the-manger  policy  with  regard  to  the  Ama 
zon  and  the  countries  drained  by  it,  runs  some  risk  of  getting  up 
a  discussion  among  the  enlightened  and  commercial  nations  as 
to  what  her  rights  to  the  Amazon  are,  and  whether  they  are  not 
in  danger  of  being  forfeited  by  non-usage. 

This  certainly  is  the  question  of  the  day.  The  problem  of 
the  age  is  that  of  the  free  navigation  of  the  Amazon  and  the 
settlement  of  the  Atlantic  slopes  of  South  America.  It  is  to 
draw  after  it  consequences  of  the  greatest  importance,  results  of 
the  greatest  magnitude. 

It  is  to  stand  out  in  after  times,  and  among  all  the  great  things 
which  this  generation  has  already  accomplished  as  the  achieve 
ment,  in  its  way,  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  time  will  come 
when  the  free  navigation  of  the  Amazon  will  be  considered  by 
the  people  of  this  country  as  second  in  importance,  by  reason 
of  its  conservative  effects,  to  the  acquisition  of  Louisiana,  if  it 
be  second  at  all ;  for  I  believe  it  is  to  prove  the  safety-valve  of  this 

i  Peru,  Bolivia,  Ecuador,  New  Granada  (United  States  of  Colombia),  and 
Guiana. 


1 76  WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 

Union.  I  will  not  press  this  view,  or  its  bearings  any  further  at 
this  time ;  though  I  think  statesmen  will  agree  with  me  that  this 
Amazonian  question  presents  a  bright  streak  to  the  far-seeing 
eye  of  the  patriot.  But  while  the  free  navigation,  the  settle 
ment,  and  the  cultivation,  and  the  civilization  of  the  Amazon  is 
pregnant  with  such  great  things,  it  is  an  achievement  which  is 
not  to  be  worked  out  by  the  hand  of  violence,  nor  is  it  to  be 
accomplished  by  the  strong  arm  of  power.  It  is  for  science, 
with  its  lights  ;  for  diplomacy,  with  its  skill;  for  commerce,  with 
its  influence  ;  and  peace,  with  its  blessings,  to  bring  about  such 
a  great  result  as  would  be  the  free  navigation  of  the  Amazon  — 
the  settlement  and  cultivation  of  the  great  Atlantic  slopes  of 
South  America.1 


WILLIAM   GILMORE   SIMMS 

[WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS  was  born  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  April  1 7, 
1806,  and  died  there,  June  1 1,  1870.  He  came  of  Scotch-Irish  stock,  received 
but  little  education,  and,  although  it  was  obvious  from  the  first  that  he  had 
literary  ambitions,  was  early  apprenticed  to  a  druggist.  When  he  was  eighteen, 
he  studied  law,  then  took  a  journey  to  the  Southwest  to  see  his  father,  and  on  his 
return  to  Charleston  published  some  juvenile  poetry  and  married.  When  he  was 
twenty-one,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  but  in  little  over  a  year  he  abandoned 
this  profession  and  helped  to  found  a  new  magazine.  This  failing,  he  invested 
his  small  inheritance  in  a  newspaper,  which  he  edited  in  support  of  the  Union 
during  the  Nullification  crisis.  In  consequence  he  became  unpopular,  his 
office  came  near  being  mobbed,  and  his  newspaper  was  transferred  to  other 
hands.  Simms,  whose  young  wife  had  died,  now  went  North  to  try  his  fortunes, 
and  at  Hingham,  Massachusetts,  he  wrote  his  elaborate  poem  "  Atalantis,  a  Story 
of  the  Sea,"  which  was  published  by  the  Harpers  in  1832  and  was  an  advance 

1  The  Amazon  was  thrown  open  to  navigation  in  1867.  The  letters  from  which 
the  extract  is  taken  first  appeared  over  the  signature  "  Inca "  in  Washington 
newspapers.  In  1850,  in  his  "  Inca  Papers"  in  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger, 
Maury  suggested  that  "  the  valley  of  the  Amazon  should  be  used  as  an  outlet  and 
safety-valve  for  the  surplus  black  and  other  population  of  the  South"  (Corbin's 
"  Maury,"  p.  130).  In  1851,  largely  because  of  Maury's  advice,  the  Navy  Depart 
ment  authorized  an  exploration  of  the  Amazon  and  its  tributaries  by  Maury's 
friend,  Lieutenant  William  Lewis  Herndon,  who  afterwards  went  down  with  his 
ship  in  a  storm  off  Cape  Hatteras  in  1857.  Herndon,  who  was  a  native  of  Virginia, 
wrote  an  account  of  his  explorations  (1853). 


WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS  177 

on  his  previous  volumes  of  verse.  Still  remaining  in  the  North,  where  he 
made  such  friends  as  Bryant,  the  young  man  in  1833  began  what  was 
destined  to  be  his  real  vocation,  that  of  the  novelist.  His  first  piece  of  fiction 
was  the  crude  but  strong  "  Martin  Faber,  the  Story  of  a  Criminal."  In  1834 
he  made  a  sensation  with  "  Guy  Rivers,"  a  romance  of  the  Georgia  gold  fields, 
the  first  of  a  series  of  exciting  "  Border  Romances,"  dealing  with  life  in  the  far 
South  and  the  Southwest.  The  next  year  he  published  "  The  Yemassee,"  a 
romance  of  colonial  South  Carolina  and  the  Southern  Indians,  his  most 
popular  book  ;  a  few  months  later  he  began  an  important  series  of  "  Revolu 
tionary  Romances  "  with  "  The  Partisan,"  in  which  he  described  with  con 
siderable  power  the  turmoils  of  South  Carolina  during  the  days  of  Marion  and 
Sumter.  In  1836  he  married  again  and  then  at  his  plantation  Woodlands, 
near  Barnwell,  South  Carolina,  he  settled  down  to  a  literary  life,  writing 
romances  in  the  cooler  months  and  visiting  the  North  in  the  summer  so  as  to 
be  near  his  publishers.  He  had  many  visitors  himself  and  delighted  to  play 
the  part  of  a  country  gentleman.  It  would  be  tedious  to  enumerate  all  the  vol 
umes  of  poetry  and  fiction  he  produced  between  1836  and  1860,  or  to  give  a 
list  of  the  magazines  he  wrote  for.  No  such  prolific  writer  had  been  before 
produced  by  the  South,  and  although  his  work  was  naturally  uneven,  it  gave 
him  a  reputation  throughout  the  country  greater  than  that  of  any  other 
Southern  writer  save  Poe.  In  1853  he  gathered  his  poems  into  two  volumes, 
and  in  1854  a  revised  edition  of  his  chief  romances  was  issued,  including  the 
best  of  those  already  mentioned,  and  such  subsequent  stories  as  "  Mellichampe  " 
(1837),  "The  Kinsmen"  (1841),  afterward  known  as  "The  Scout,"  and 
"  Katherine  Walton  "  (1851).  He  also  collected  his  short  stories  into  two 
volumes  entitled  "The  Wigwam  and  Cabin  "  (1845),  and  a  little  later  gathered 
his  critical  essays  and  reviews,  besides  publishing  biographies  of  Marion, 
Captain  John  Smith,  the  Chevalier  Bayard,  and  General  Nathanael  Greene,  as 
well  as  historical  and  geographical  works  and  political  pamphlets.  He 
continued  to  produce  books  after  the  war,  in  fact,  was  never  idle  at  any  time; 
but  only  three  romances  of  any  consequence  appeared  after  the  publication  of  the 
uniform  edition.  These  were  "  The  Forayers  "  (1855)  and  "  Eutaw"  (1856), 
completing  the  Revolutionary  series,  and  "The  Cassique  of  Kiawah"  (1859), 
an  interesting  tale  of  early  Charleston  and  the  pirates.  Meanwhile  he  had  ex 
pended  not  a  little  of  his  energy  in  the  task  of  giving  the  South  a  good  magazine. 
After  some  failures  he  undertook  the  editorship  of  The  Southern  Quarterly 
Review,  a  solid  periodical  which  was  not  prospering  (1849).  He  succeeded 
in  putting  some  life  into  it,  secured  good  contributors  like  Beverley  Tucker, 
(^.z>.),  and  kept  it  going  for  about  six  years.  As  an  editor  he  was  compelled 
to  pay  considerable  attention  to  politics,  and  he  was  soon  known  as  an  ardent 
supporter  of  extreme  Southern  views.  He  had  little  practical  influence  on 
affairs,  however,  and  was  more  in  his  element,  in  the  years  immediately  pre 
ceding  the  war,  as  the  head  of  a  literary  coterie  in  Charleston  which  included 
such  promising  young  men  as  Henry  Timrod  (q.v.)  and  Paul  Hamilton 
N 


1/8  WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 

Hayne  (q.v.}.  This  coterie  had  for  its  organ  Russell's  Magazine  (1857- 
1860),  one  of  the  best  periodicals  ever  published  in  the  South.  But  the  war 
scattered  the  little  band  of  writers  and  brought  great  misery  to  some  of  them, 
particularly  to  Simms,  whose  house  at  Woodlands  was  burned,  first  by  accident 
and  then  by  the  enemy.  He  lost  his  library  and  was  cut  off  from  his  usual 
avenues  of  publication.  Worst  of  all,  old  friends,  some  of  his  children,  and  his 
wife  died  during  the  years  in  which  his  proud  hopes  for  the  Confederacy  were, 
being  crushed.  He  bore  up  bravely  under  it  all,  and  labored  with  his  pen  for 
five  years  longer;  but  the  public  had  lost  its  relish  for  the  type  of  fiction  he 
offered,  and  his  latest  stories  were  in  themselves  of  little  merit.  When  all  is 
said,  his  was  a  remarkable  and  a  very  creditable  career.  With  little  or  no 
assistance,  in  a  community  not  very  propitious  to  his  profession,  he  made 
himself  a  writer  of  national  importance,  and  a  striking  figure  among  the  lead 
ing  citizens  of  his  state.  He  was  a  friend  to  almost  every  struggling  literary 
man  in  the  South.  He  showed  great  versatility,  writing  poetry,  and  dramas, 
and  criticism,  and  biography,  and  history,  and  fiction.  He  was  an  indefati 
gable  editor  and  letter  writer,  and  something  of  a  lecturer  and  orator.  And 
although  he  left  little  that  is  permanent,  he  did  write  half  a  dozen  or  more 
romances  of  colonial  and  Revolutionary  Carolina  that  are  interesting  and 
valuable  for  the  light  they  throw  upon  an  important  period  of  Southern 
history.  The  best  of  his  fiction  may  still  be  obtained  in  cheap  editions.  For 
his  life  see  the  biography  by  the  present  editor  in  the  "American  Men  of 
Letters"  (1892).] 

THE   LOST   PLEIAD1 
[FROM  "POETICAL  WORKS,"  1853.] 

I 

NOT  in  the  sky, 

Where  it  was  seen 

So  long  in  eminence  of  light  serene,  — 

Nor  on  the  white  tops  of  the  glistering  wave, 

Nor  down,  in  mansions  of  the  hidden  deep, 

Though  beautiful  in  green 

And  crystal,  its  great  caves  of  mystery,  — 

Shall  the  bright  watcher  have 

Her  place,  and,  as  of  old,  high  station  keep  ! 2 

1  The  poem  in  its  first  form  dates  from  about  1829. 

2  The  legend  is  that  the  seven  daughters  of  Atlas  were  placed  in  the  heavens 
after  their  deaths.    All  save  one,  Merope,  the  wife  of  Sisyphus,  King  of  Corinth,  had 
loved  gods ;  her  lustre  was  dimmed  because  she  had  loved  a  mortal. 


THE  LOST  PLEIAD  179 

II 

Gone  !  gone ! 
Oh  !  never  more,  to  cheer 
The  mariner,  who  holds  his  course  alone 
On  the  Atlantic,  through  the  weary  night,  % 

When  the  stars  turn  to  watchers,  and  do  sleep, 
Shall  it  again  appear, 
With  the  sweet-loving  certainty  of  light, 
Down  shining  on  the  shut  eyes  of  the  deep  ! 


m 

The  upward-looking  shepherd  on  the  hills 

Of  Chaldea,  night-returning,  with  his  flocks, 

He  wonders  why  his  beauty  doth  not  blaze, 

Gladding  his  gaze,  — 

And,  from  his  dreary  watch  along  the  rocks, 

Guiding  him  homeward  o'er  the  perilous  ways ! 

How  stands  he  waiting  still,  in  a  sad  maze, 

Much  wondering,  while  the  drowsy  silence  fills 

The  sorrowful  vault !  —  how  lingers,  in  the  hope  that  night 

May  yet  renew  the  expected  and  sweet  light, 

So  natural  to  his  sight ! 


rv 

And  lone, 

Where,  at  the  first,  in  smiling  love  she  shone, 
Brood  the  once  happy  circle  of  bright  stars  : 
How  should  they  dream,  until  her  fate  was  known, 
That  they  were  ever  confiscate  to  death  ? 
That  dark  oblivion  the  pure  beauty  mars, 
And,  like  the  earth,  its  common  bloom  and  breath, 
That  they  should  fall  from  high ; 
Their  lights  grow  blasted  by  a  touch,  and  die,  — 
All  their  concerted  springs  of  harmony 
Snapt  rudely,  and  the  generous  music  gone  ! 


180  WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 

V 

Ah  !  still  the  strain 

Of  wailing  sweetness  fills  the  saddening  sky ; 
The  sister  stars,  lamenting  in  their  pain 
That  one  of  the  selectest  ones  must  die,  — 
Must  vanish,  when  most  lovely,  from  the  rest ! 
Alas  !  'tis  ever  thus  the  destiny.    . 
Even  Rapture's  song  hath  evermore  a  tone 
Of  wailing,  as  for  bliss  too  quickly  gone. 
The  hope  most  precious  is  the  soonest  lost, 
The  flower  most  sweet  is  first  to  feel  the  frost. 
Are  not  all  short-lived  things  the  loveliest? 
And,  like  the  pale  star,  shooting  down  the  sky, 
Look  they  not  ever  brightest,  as  they  fly 
From  the  lone  sphere  they  blest ! 

A   SEA-KING'S   STATE1 

** 

[FROM  "  ATALANTIS,  A  STORY  OF  THE  SEA"  (1832) 
IN  "POETICAL  WORKS,"  1853.] 

BECOME  my  bride,  —  nay  —  patiently  !  —  smile  not  — 

My  queen,  if  better  lists  thee.     On  my  throne,  — 

Thou  hast  beheld  its  state,  —  of  emeralds  made, 

Each  one  a  crowning  and  a  marvelous  gem, 

Set  round  the  spacious  bosom  of  a  shell 

Torn  from  a  fierce  sea-monster  —  one  who  bore 

The  miracled  wonder  on  his  glittering  back, 

And  battled  for  it  as  became  its  worth, 

Nor  lost  it  ere  his  life ;  —  thy  hand  shall  wield,  — 

Fit  hand  for  such  a  rule  !  —  a  sceptred  wand, 

Pluck'd  from  an  ocean  cave  of  farthest  Ind, 

By  ancient  giants  held,  —  a  pillar'd  spire, 

Of  holiest  sapphire,  which  at  evening  burns 

Deeper  than  even  sunlight,  and  around 

1  Onesemarchus,  a  king  of  sea-demons,  is  wooing  Atalantis,  a  princess  of  the 
Nereids. 


FASCINA TED  BY  A   RA TTLESNAgE  1 8 1 

Lights  up  the  sable  waters  many  a  league, 

From  sea  to  shore,  till  the  scared  'habitants 

Fly  to  their  cover  in  the  wood,  nor  dream 

How  sportive  is  the  sway  of  that  Sea-queen, 

Who  rides  the  waves  and  makes  them  smile  by  night. 


FASCINATED    BY   A   RATTLESNAKE1 
[FROM  "THE  YEMASSEE"  (1835).    REVISED  EDITION,  1853.] 

"  HE  does  not  come  —  he  does  not  come,"  she  murmured,  as 
she  stood  contemplating  the  thick  copse  spreading  before  her,  and 
forming  the  barrier  which  terminated  the  beautiful  range  of  oaks 
which  constituted  the  grove.  How  beautiful  was  the  green  and 
garniture  of  that  little  copse  of  wood.  The  leaves  were  thick,  and 
the  grass  around  lay  folded  over  and  over  in  bunches,  with  here 
and  there  a  wild  flower,  gleaming  from  its  green,  and  making  of 
it  a  beautiful  carpet  of  the  richest  and  most  various  texture.  A 
small  tree  rose  from  the  centre  of  a  clump  around  which  a  wild 
grape  gadded  luxuriantly ;  and,  with  an  incoherent  sense  of  what 
she  saw,  she  lingered  before  the  little  cluster,  seeming  to  survey 
that  which,  though  it  seemed  to  fix  her  eye,  yet  failed  to  fill  her 
thought.  Her  mind  wandered  —  her  soul  was  far  away ;  and  the 
objects  in  her  vision  were  far  other  than  those  which  occupied  her 
imagination.  Things  grew  indistinct  beneath  her  eye.  The  eye 
rather  slept  than  saw.  The  musing  spirit  had  given  holiday  to  the 
ordinary  senses,  and  took  no  heed  of  the  forms  that  rose,  and 
floated,  or  glided  away,  before  them.  In  this  way,  the  leaf 
detached  made  no  impression  upon  the  sight  that  was  yet  bent 
upon  it ;  she  saw  not  the  bird,  though  it  whirled,  untroubled  by 
a  fear,  in  wanton  circles  around  her  head  —  and  the  black-snake, 
with  the  rapidity  of  an  arrow,  darted  over  her  path  without  arous 
ing  a  single  terror  in  the  form  that  otherwise  would  have  shivered 
at  its  mere  appearance.  And  yet,  though  thus  indistinct  were  all 

1  Bess  Matthews  goes  to  meet  her  lover  and  is  fascinated  by  the  snake.  Her 
rescuer,  the  Yemassee  Occonestoga,  is  one  of  Simms's  best  characters  and  almost 
worthy  of  Cooper. 


1 82  .     WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 

things  around  her  to  the  musing  mind  of  the  maiden,  her  eye  was 
yet  singularly  fixed  —  fastened,  as  it  were,  to  a  single  spot  — 
gathered  and  controlled  by  a  single  object,  and  glazed,  apparently, 
beneath  a  curious  fascination.  Before  the  maiden  rose  a  little 
clump  of  bushes,  —  bright  tangled  leaves  flaunting  wide  in  glossi 
est  green,  with  vines  trailing  over  them,  thickly  decked  with  blue 
and  crimson  flowers.  Her  eye  communed  vacantly  with  these ; 
fastened  by  a  star-like  shining  glance  —  a  subtle  ray,  that  shot  out 
from  the  circle  of  green  leaves  —  seeming  to  be  their  very  eye  — 
and  sending  out  a  fluid  lustre  that  seemed  to  stream  across  the 
space  between,  and  find  its  way  into  her  own  eyes.  Very  piercing 
and  beautiful  was  that  subtle  brightness,  of  the  sweetest,  strangest 
power.  And  now  the  leaves  quivered  and  seemed  to  float  away, 
only  to  return,  and  the  vines  waved  and  swung  around  in  fantastic 
mazes,  unfolding  ever-changing  varieties  of  form  and  colour  to  her 
gaze ;  but  the  star-like  eye  was  ever  steadfast,  bright  and  gorgeous 
gleaming  in  their  midst,  and  still  fastened,  with  strange  fondness, 
upon  her  own.  How  beautiful,  with  wondrous  intensity,  did  it 
gleam,  and  dilate,  growing  large  and  more  lustrous  with  every  ray 
which  it  sent  forth.  And  her  own  glance  became  intense,  fixed 
also ;  but  with  a  dreaming  sense  that  conjured  up  the  wildest 
fancies,  terribly  beautiful,  that  took  her  soul  away  from  her,  and 
wrapt  it  about  as  with  a  spell.  She  would  have  fled,  she  would  have 
flown  ;  but  she  had  not  power  to  move.  The  will  was  wanting  to 
her  flight.  She  felt  that  she  could  have  bent  forward  to  pluck  the 
gem-like  thing  from  the  bosom  of  the  leaf  in  which  it  seemed  to 
grow,  and  which  it  irradiated  with  its  bright  white  gleam ;  but 
ever  as  she  aimed  to  stretch  forth  her  hand,  and  bent  forward, 
she  heard  a  rush  of  wings,  and  a  shrill  scream  from  the  tree  above 
her  —  such  a  scream  as  the  mock-bird  makes,  when,  angrily,  it 
raises  its  dusky  crest,  and  flaps  its  wings  furiously  against  its  slen 
der  sides.  Such  a  scream  seemed  like  a  warning,  and  though  yet 
unawakened  to  full  consciousness,  it  startled  her  and  forbade  her 
effort.  More  than  once,  in  her  survey  of  this  strange  object,  had 
she  heard  that  shrill  note,  and  still  had  it  carried  to  her  ear  the 
same  note  of  warning,  and  to  her  mind  the  same  vague  conscious 
ness  of  an  evil  presence.  But  the  star-like  eye  was  yet  upon  her 


FASCINATED   BY  A  RATTLESNAKE  183 

own  —  a  small,  bright  eye,  quick  like  that  of  a  bird,  now  steady 
in  its  place  and  observant  seemingly  only  of  her,  now  darting 
forward  with  all  the  clustering  leaves  about  it,  and  shooting  up 
towards  her,  as  if  wooing  her  to  seize.  At  another  moment, 
riveted  to  the  vine  which  lay  around  it,  it  would  whirl  round  and 
round,  dazzlingly  bright  and  beautiful,  even  as  a  torch,  waving 
hurriedly  by  night  in  the  hands  of  some  playful  boy ;  —  but,  in  all 
this  time,  the  glance  was  never  taken  from  her  own  —  there  it 
grew,  fixed  —  a  very  principle  of  light,  —  and  such  a  light  —  a 
subtle,  burning,  piercing,  fascinating  gleam,  such  as  gathers  in 
vapour  above  the  old  grave,  and  binds  us  as  we  look  —  shooting, 
darting  directly  into  her  eye,  dazzling  her  gaze,  defeating  its  sense 
of  discrimination,  and  confusing  strangely  that  of  perception.  She 
felt  dizzy,  for,  as  she  looked,  a  cloud  of  colours,  bright,  gay,  various 
colours,  floated  and  hung  like  so  much  drapery  around  the  single 
object  that  had  so  secured  her  attention  and  spell-bound  her  feet. 
Her  limbs  felt  momently  more  and  more  insecure  —  her  blood  * 
grew  cold,  and  she  seemed  to  feel  the  gradual  freeze  of  vein  by 
vein,  throughout  her  person.  At  that  moment  a  rustling  was 
heard  in  the  branches  of  the  tree  beside  her,  and  the  bird,  which 
had  repeatedly  uttered  a  single  cry  above  her,  as  it  were  of  warn 
ing,  flew  away  from  his  station  with  a  scream  more  piercing  than  4 
ever.  This  movement  had  the  effect,  for  which  it  really  seemed 
intended,  of  bringing  back  to  her  a  portion  of  the  consciousness 
she  seemed  so  totally  to  have  been  deprived  of  before.  She  strove 
to  move  from  before  the  beautiful  but  terrible  presence,  but  for  a 
while  she  strove  in  vain.  The  rich  star-like  glance  still  riveted 
her  own,  and  the  subtle  fascination  kept  her  bound.  The  mental 
energies,  Kowever,  with  the  movement  of  their  greatest  trial,  now 
gathered  suddenly  to  her  aid ;  and,  with  a  desperate  effort,  but 
with  a  feeling  still  of  most  annoying  uncertainty  and  dread,  she 
succeeded  partially  in  the  attempt,  and  threw  her  arms  back 
ward,  her  hands  grasping  the  neighbouring  tree,  feeble,  tottering, 
and  depending  upon  it  for  that  support  which  her  own  limbs  almost 
entirely  denied  her.  With  her  movement,  however,  came  the  full 
development  of  the  powerful  spell  and  dreadful  mystery  before  her. 
As  her  feet  receded,  though  but  a  single  pace,  to  the  tree  against 


184  WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 

which  she  now  rested,  the  audible  articulated  ring,  like  that  of 
a  watch  when  wound  up  with  the  verge l  broken,  announced  the 
nature  of  that  splendid  yet  dangerous  presence,  in  the  form  of 
the  monstrous  rattlesnake,  now  but  a  few  feet  before  her,  lying 
coiled,  at  the  bottom  of  a  beautiful  shrub  with  which,  to  her 
dreaming  eye,  many  of  its  own  glorious  hues  had  become  associ 
ated.  She  was,  at  length,  conscious  enough  to  perceive  and  to 
feel  all  her  danger;  but  terror  had  denied  her  the  strength 
necessary  to  fly  from  her  dreadful  enemy.  There  still  the  eye 
glared  beautifully  bright  and  piercing  upon  her  own ;  and, 
seemingly  in  a  spirit  of  sport,  the  insidious  reptile  slowly  un 
wound  himself  from  his  coil,  but  only  to  gather  himself  up  again 
into  his  muscular  rings,  his  great  flat  head  rising  in  the  midst,  and 
slowly  nodding,  as  it  were,  towards  her,  the  eye  still  piercing 
deeply  into  her  own ;  —  the  rattle  still  slightly  ringing  at  inter 
vals,  and  giving  forth  that  paralyzing  sound,  which,  once  heard, 
is  remembered  for  ever.  The  reptile  all  this  while  appeared  to 
be  conscious  of,  and  to  sport  with,  while  seeking  to  excite  her 
terrors.  Now,  with  its  flat  head,  distended  mouth,  and  curving 
neck,  would  it  dart  forward  its  long  form  towards  her,  —  its  fatal 
teeth,  unfolding  on  either  side  of  its  upper  jaws,  seeming  to  threaten 
her  with  instantaneous  death,  while  its  powerful  eye  shot  forth 
glances  of  that  fatal  power  of  fascination,  malignantly  bright, 
which,  by  paralyzing,  with  a  novel  form  of  terror  and  of  beauty, 
may  readily  account  for  the  spell  it  possesses  of  binding  the  feet 
of  the  timid,  and  denying  to  fear  even  the  privilege  of  flight. 
Could  she  have  fled  !  She  felt  the  necessity ;  but  the  power  of 
her  limbs  was  gone  !  and  there  still  it  lay,  coiling  and  uncoiling, 
its  arching  neck  glittering  like  a  ring  of  brazed  copper,  bright  and 
lurid  ;  and  th'e  dreadful  beauty  of  its  eye  still  fastened,  eagerly  con 
templating  the  victim,  while  the  pendulous  rattle  still  rang  the  death 
note,  as  if  to  prepare  the  conscious  mind  for  the  fate  which  is  mo 
mently  approaching  to  the  blow.  Meanwhile  the  stillness  became 
death-like  with  all  surrounding  objects.  The  bird  had  gone  with 
its  scream  and  rush.  The  breeze  was  silent.  The  vines  ceased 
to -wave.  The  leaves  faintly  quivered  on  their  stems.  The  ser- 
1  The  spindle  of  the  balance  wheel. 


FASCINATED  BY  A  RATTLESNAKE  \ 85 

pent  once  more  lay  still ;  but  the  eye  was  never  once  turned  away 
from  the  victim.  Its  corded  muscles  are  all  in  coil.  They  have 
but  to  unclasp  suddenly,  and  the  dreadful  folds  will  be  upon  her, 
its  full  length,  and  the  fatal  teeth  will  strike,  and  the  deadly  venom 
which  they  secrete  will  mingle  with  the  life  blood  in  her  veins. 

The  terrified  damsel,  her  full  consciousness  restored,  but  not 
her  strength,  feels  all  the  danger.  She  sees  that  the  sport  of  the 
terrible  reptile  is  at  an  end.  She  cannot  now  mistake  the  horrid 
expression  of  its  eye.  She  strives  to  scream,  but  the  voice  dies 
away,  a  feeble  gurgling  in  her  throat.  Her  tongue  is  paralyzed ; 
her  lips  are  sealed  —  once  more  she  strives  for  flight,  but  her 
limbs  refuse  their  office.  She  has  nothing  left  of  life  but  its  fear 
ful  consciousness.  It  is  in  her  despair,  that,  a  last  effort,  she 
succeeds  to  scream,  a  single  wild  cry,  forced  from  her  by  the 
accumulated  agony;  she  sinks  down  upon  the  grass  before  her 
enemy  —  her  eyes,  however,  still  open,  and  still  looking  upon 
those  which  he  directs  for  ever  upon  them.  She  sees  him  ap 
proach  —  now  advancing,  now  receding  —  now  swelling  in  every 
part  with  something  of  anger,  while  his  neck  is  arched  beautifully 
like  that  of  a  wild  horse  under  the  curb ;  until,  at  length,  tired  as 
it  were  of  play,  like  the  cat  with  its  victim,  she  sees  the  neck 
growing  larger  and  becoming  completely  bronzed  as  about  to 
strike  —  the  huge  jaws  unclosing  almost  directly  above  her,  the 
long  tubulated  fang,  charged  with  venom,  protruding  from  the 
cavernous  mouth  —  and  she  sees  no  more  !  Insensibility  came 
to  her  aid,  and  she  lay  almost  lifeless  under  the  very  folds  of  the 
monster. 

In  that  moment  the  copse  parted  —  and  an  arrow,  piercing  the 
monster  through  and  through  the  neck,  bore  his  head  forward  to 
the  ground,  alongside  of  the  maiden,  while  his  spiral  extremities, 
now  unfolding  in  his  own  agony,  were  actually,  in  part,  writhing 
upon  her  person.  The  arrow  came  from  the  fugitive  Occonestoga, 
who  had  fortunately  reached  the  spot,  in  season,  on  his  way  to 
the  Block  House.  He  rushed  from  the  copse,  as  the  snake  fell, 
and,  with  a  stick,  fearlessly  approached  him  where  he  lay  tossing 
in  agony  upon  the  grass.  Seeing  him  advance,  the  courageous 
reptile  made  an  effort  to  regain  his  coil,  shaking  the  fearful  rattle 


1 86  WILLIAM   GILMORE  SIMMS 

violently  at  every  evolution  which  he  took  for  that  purpose ;  but 
the  arrow  completely  passing  through  his  neck,  opposed  an  un 
yielding  obstacle  to  the  endeavour ;  and  rinding  it  hopeless,  and 
seeing  the  new  enemy  about  to  assault  him,  with  something  of 
the  spirit  of  the  white  man  under  like  circumstances,  he  turned 
desperately  round,  and  striking  his  charged  fangs,  so  that  they 
were  riveted  in  the  wound  they  made,  into  a  susceptible  part  of 
his  own  body,  he  threw  himself  over  with  a  single  convulsion,  and, 
a  moment  after,  lay  dead  beside  the  utterly  unconscious  maiden.1 


A  SOUTHERN  STORM2 

[FROM  "THE  PARTISAN  "  (1835).    REVISED  EDITION,  1853.] 

THEY  had  now  reached  the  spot  to  which  Humphries  had 
directed  his  course  —  a  thick  undergrowth  of  small  timber  —  of 
field  pine,  the  stunted  oak,  blackjack,  and  hickory  —  few  of  suffi 
cient  size  to  feel  the  force  of  the  tempest,  or  prove  very  conspicu 
ous  conductors  of  the  lightning.  Obeying  the  suggestion  and 
following  the  example  of  his  companion,  Singleton  dismounted, 
and  the  two  placed  themselves  and  their  horses  as  much  upon  the 
sheltered  side  of  the  clump  as  possible,  yet  sufficiently  far  to  es 
cape  any  danger  from  its  overthrow.  Here  they  awaited  the 
coming  of  the  tempest.  The  experienced  woodman  alone  could 
have  spoken  for  its  approach.  A  moment's  pause  had  intervened, 
when  the  suddenly  aroused  elements  seemed  as  suddenly  to  have 

1  The  power  of  the  rattlesnake  to  fascinate  is  a  frequent  faith  among  the  super 
stitious  of  the  Southern  country  people.    Of  this  capacity  in  reference  to  birds  and 
insects,  frogs,  and  the  smaller  reptiles,  there  is  indeed  little  question.     Its  power 
over  persons  is  not  so  well  authenticated,  although  numberless  instances  of  this 
sort  are  given  by  persons  of  very  excellent  veracity.    The  above  is  almost  literally 
worded  after  a  verbal  narrative  furnished  the  author  by  an  old  lady,  who  never 
dreamed,  herself,  of  doubting  the  narration.     It  is  more  than  probable,  indeed,  that 
the  mind  of  a  timid  person,  coming  suddenly  upon  a  reptile  so  highly  venomous, 
would  for  a  time  be  paralyzed  by  its  consciousness  of  danger,  sufficiently  so  to 
defeat  exertion  for  a  while  and  deny  escape.     The  authorities  for  this  superstition 
are,  however,  quite  sufficient  for  the  romancer,  and  in  a  work  like  the  present  we 
need  no  other.     [Simms's  note.] 

2  Major  Singleton  is  the  hero ;  Humphries,  a  brave  woodsman  and  partisan 
soldier. 


A   SOUTHERN  STORM  1 8? 

sunk  into  grim  repose.  A  slight  sighing  of  the  wind  only,  as 
it  wound  sluggishly  along  the  distant  wood,  had  its  warning,  and 
the  dense  blackness  of  the  embodied  storm  was  only  evident  at 
moments  when  the  occasional  rush  of  the  lightning  made  visible 
its  gloomy  terrors. 

"  It's  making  ready  for  a  charge,  major ;  it's  just  like  a  good 
captain,  sir,  that  calls  in  his  scouts  and  sentries,  and  orders  all 
things  to  keep  quiet,  and  without  beat  of  drum  gets  all  fixed  to 
spring  out  from  the  bush  upon  them  that's  coming.  It  won't  be 
long  now,  sir,  before  we  get  it ;  but  just  now  it's  still  as  the  grave. 
It's  waiting  for  its  outriders  —  them  long  streaky  white  clouds  it 
sent  out  an  hour  ago,  like  so  many  scouts.  They're  a-coming  up 
now,  and  when  they  all  get  up  together  —  then  look  out  for  the 
squall.  Quiet  now,  Mossfoot  —  quiet  now,  creature  —  don't  be 
frightened  —  it's  not  a-going  to  hurt  you,  old  fellow  —  not  a  bit." 

Humphries  patted  his  favorite  while  speaking,  and  strove  to 
soothe  and  quiet  the  impatience  which  both  horses  exhibited. 
This  was  in  that  strange  pause  of  the  storm  which  is  its  most 
remarkable  feature  in  the  South  —  that  singular  interregnum  of 
the  winds,  when,  after  giving  repeated  notice  of  their  most  terrific 
action,  they  seem  almost  to  forget  their  purpose,  and,  for  a  few 
moments  appear  to  slumber  in  their  inactivity. 

But  the  pause  was  only  momentary,  and  was  now  at  an  end. 
In  another  instant,  they  heard  the  rush  and  the  roar,  as  of  a 
thousand  wild  steeds  of  the  desert  ploughing  the  sands;  then 
followed  the  mournful  howling  of  the  trees  —  the  shrieking  of  the 
lashed  winds,  as  if,  under  the  influence  of  some  fierce  demon  who 
enjoyed  his  triumph,  they  plunged  through  the  forest,  wailing  at 
their  own  destructive  progress,  yet  compelled  unswervingly  to 
hurry  forward.  They  twisted  the  pine  from  its  place,  snapping  it 
as  a  reed,  while  its  heavy  fall  to  the  ground  which  it  had  so  long 
sheltered,  called  up,  even  amid  the  roar  of  the  tempest,  a  thousand 
echoes  from  the  forest.  The  branches  of  the  wood  were  pros 
trated  like  so  much  heather,  wrested  and  swept  from  the  trees 
which  yielded  them  without  a  struggle  to  the  blast;  and  the 
crouching  horses  and  riders  below  were  in  an  instant  covered  with 
a  cloud  of  fragments.  These  were  the  precursors  merely ;  then 


1 88  WILLIAM   G1LMORE   SIMMS 

came  the  arrowy  flight  and  form  of  the  hurricane  itself —  its  actual 
bulk1 — its  embodied  power,  pressing  along  through  the  forest  in 
a  gyratory  progress,  not  fifty  yards  wide,  never  distending  in 
width,  yet  capriciously  winding  from  right  to  left  and  from  left  to 
right,  in  a  zigzag  direction,  as  if  a  playful  spirit  thus  strove  to 
mix  with  all  the  terrors  of  destruction  the  sportive  mood  of  the 
most  idle  fancy.  In  this  progress  the  whole  wood  in  its  path 
underwent  prostration  —  the  tall,  proud  pine,  the  deep-rooted 
and  unbending  oak,  the  small  cedar  and  the  pliant  shrub,  torn, 
dismembered  in  fine  proportions ;  some,  only  by  a  timely  yielding 
to  the  pressure,  passed  over  with  little  injury,  as  if  too  much 
scorned  by  the  assailant  for  his  wrath.  The  larger  trees  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  spot  where  our  partisans  had  taken  shelter, 
shared  the  harsher  fortune  generally,  for  they  were  in  the  very 
track  of  the  tempest.  Too  sturdy  and  massive  to  yield,  they 
withheld  their  homage,  and  were  either  snapped  off  relentlessly 
and  short,  or  were  torn  and  twisted  up  from  their  very  roots. 
The  poor  horses,  with  eyes  staring  in  the  direction  of  the  storm, 
with  ears  erect,  and  manes  flying  in  the  wind,  stood  trembling  in 
every  joint,  too  much  terrified,  or  too  conscious  of  their  helpless 
ness,  to  attempt  to  fly.  All  around  the  crouching  party  the  woods 
seemed  for  several  seconds  absolutely  flattened.  Huge  trees 
were  prostrated,  and  their  branches  were  clustering  thickly,  and 
almost  forming  a  prison  around  them ;  leaving  it  doubtful,  as  the 
huge  terror  rolled  over  their  heads,  whether  they  could  ever  make 
their  escape  from  the  enclosure.  Rush  after  rush  of  the  trooping 
winds  went  over  them,  keeping  them  immovable  in  their  crowded 
shelter  and  position  —  each  succeeding  troop  wilder  and  weightier 
than  the  last,  until  at  length  a  sullen,  bellowing  murmur,  which 
before  they  had  not  heard,  announced  the  greater  weight  of  the 
hurricane  to  be  overthrowing  the  forests  in  the  distance. 

The  chief  danger  had  overblown.  Gradually  the  warm,  oppres 
sive  breath  passed  off;  the  air  again  grew  suddenly  cool,  and  a 
gush  of  heavy  drops  came  falling  from  the  heavens,  as  if  they  too 
had  been  just  released  from  the  intolerable  pressure  which  had 
burdened  earth.  Moaning  pitifully,  the  prostrated  trees  and 
shrubs,  those  which  had  survived  the  storm,  though  shorn  by  its 


A   SOUTHERN  STORM  189 

scythes,  gradually,  and  seemingly  with  painful  effort,  once  more 
elevated  themselves  to  their  old  position.  Their  sighings,  as  they 
did  so,  were  almost  human  to  the  ears  of  our  crouching  warriors, 
whom  their  movement  in  part  released.  Far  and  near,  the  moan 
ing  of  the  forest  around  them  was  strangely,  but  not  unpleasantly, 
heightened  in  its  effect  upon  their  senses,  by  the  distant  and  de 
clining  roar  of  the  past  and  far  travelling  hurricane,  as,  ploughing 
the  deep  woods  and  laying  waste  all  in  its  progress,  it  rushed  on 
to  a  meeting  with  the  kindred  storms  that  gather  about  the  gloomy 
Cape  Hatteras,  and  stir  and  foam  along  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  it's  no  worse,  major,"  cried  Humphries,  rising 
and  shaking  himself  from  the  brush  with  which  he  was  covered. 
"The  danger  is  now  over,  though  it  was  mighty  close  to  our 
haunches.  Look,  now,  at  this  pine,  split  all  to  shivers,  and  the 
top  not  five  feet  from  Mossfoot's  quarters.  The  poor  beast  would 
ha'  been  in  a  sad  fix  a  little  to  the  left  there." 

Extricating  themselves,  they  helped  their  steeds  out  of  the 
brush,  though  with  some  difficulty  —  soothing  them  all  the  while 
with  words  of  encouragement.  As  Humphries  had  already  re 
marked  in  his  rude  fashion,  the  horse,  at  such  moments,  feels 
and  acknowledges  his  dependence  upon  man,  looks  to  him  for 
the  bridle,  and  flies  to  him  for  protection.  They  were  almost 
passive  in  the  hands  of  their  masters,  and  under  the  unsubsided 
fear  would  have  followed  them,  like  tame  dogs,  in  any  direction. 

The  storm,  though  diminished  of  its  terrors,  still  continued; 
but  this  did  not  discourage  the  troopers.  They  were  soon 
mounted,  and  once  more  upon  their  way.  The  darkness,  in 
part,  had  been  dissipated  by  the  hurricane.  It  had  swept  on 
to  other  regions,  leaving  behind  it  only  detached  masses  of  wind 
and  rain-clouds  sluggishly  hanging,  or  fitfully  flying  along  the 
sky.  These,  though  still  sufficient  to  defeat  the  light  of  the 
moon,  could  not  altogether  prevent  a  straggling  ray  which  peeped 
out  timidly  at  pauses  in  the  storm ;  and  which,  though  it  could 
not  illumine  still  contrived  to  diminish  somewhat  the  gloomy  and 
forbidding  character  of  the  scene.  Such  gleams  in  the  natural, 
are  like  assurances  of  hope  in  the  moral  world  —  they  speak  of 
to-morrow  —  they  promise  us  that  the  clouds  must  pass  away  — 
they  cheer,  when  there  is  little  left  to  charm. 


IQO  WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS 

THE   BURDEN   OF  THE   DESERT1 

A  PARAPHRASE,  —  ISAIAH  xxi 
[FROM  "  POETICAL  WORKS,"  1853.] 


THE  burden  of  the  Desert, 

The  Desert  like  the  deep, 
That  from  the  south  in  whirl-winds 

Comes  rushing  up  the  steep;  — 
I  see  the  spoiler  spoiling, 

I  hear  the  strife  of  blows ; 
Up,  watchman,  to  thy  heights,  and  say 

How  the  dread  conflict  goes  ! 


What  hear'st  thou  from  the  desert?  — 

"  A  sound,  as  if  a  world 
Were  from  its  axle  lifted  up 

And  to  an  ocean  hurled ; 
The  roaring  as  of  waters, 

The  rushing  as  of  hills, 
And  lo  !  the  tempest-smoke  and  cloud, 

That  all  the  desert  fills." 

in 

What  seest  thou  on  the  desert?  — 

"  A  chariot  comes,"  he  cried, 
"  With  camels  and  with  horsemen, 

That  travel  by  its  side ; 
And  now  a  lion  darteth 

From  out  the  cloud,  and  he 
Looks  backward  ever  as  he  flies, 

As  fearing  still  to  see  ! " 

1  The  poem  dates  from  about  1848. 


GENERAL  ROBERT  E.   LEE  191 

IV 

What,  watchman,  of  the  horsemen  ?  — - 

"  They  come,  and  as  they  ride, 
Their  horses  crouch  and  tremble, 

Nor  toss  their  manes  in  pride ; 
The  camels  wander  scattered, 

The  horsemen  heed  them  naught, 
But  speed,  as  if  they  dreaded  still 

The  foe  with  whom  they  fought." 


What  foe  is  this,  thou  watchman?  — 

"  Hark  !  Hark  !  the  horsemen  come ; 
Still  looking  on  the  backward  path, 

As  if  they  feared  a  doom ; 
Their  locks  are  white  with  terror, 

Their  very  shouts  a  groan ; 
'  Babylon,'  they  cry,  '  has  fallen, 

And  all  her  gods  are  gone  ! ' " 


GENERAL   ROBERT   E.    LEE 

[ROBERT  EDWARD  LEE  was  born  at  Stratford,  Westmoreland  County,  Vir 
ginia,  January  19, 1807,  and  died  in  Lexington,  Virginia,  October  12,  1870.  He 
was  the  third  son  of  the  famous  "  Light-  Horse  Harry"  Lee  (see  p.  74,  note), 
who  died  when  his  still  more  famous  son  was  a  boy  of  eleven.  The  youth 
was  the  mainstay  of  his  widowed  and  invalid  mother,  and  was  noted  for  his 
exemplary  conduct  both  in  and  out  of  school.  In  1825  he  entered  the  mili 
tary  academy  at  West  Point,  where  four  years  later  he  graduated  second  in  his 
class.  He  was  appointed  second  lieutenant  of  engineers,  and  his  mother  lived 
just  long  enough  to  see  him  wear  his  honors.  He  was  assigned  to  duty  at 
Hampton  Roads,  Virginia.  In  1831  he  married  the  beautiful  heiress,  Mary 
Randolph  Custis  of  Arlington.  He  remained  in  the  army,  and  from  1834  to 
1837  was  in  Washington,  assistant  to  the  chief  engineer.  Among  his  friends 
at  this  time  were  Hugh  S.  Legare  (^.^.)  and  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  afterward 
the  distinguished  Southern  general.  In  1837  ne  went  to  St.  Louis  and  super 
intended  most  efficiently  the  improvement  of  the  upper  Mississippi  for  the 


192  GENERAL  ROBERT  E.   LEE 

purposes  of  navigation.  The  next  year  he  was  made  captain  of  engineers. 
In  1841  he  was  put  in  charge  of  the  defences  of  New  York  Harbor  at  Fort 
Hamilton,  and  there  he  remained  until  the  outbreak  of  the  Mexican  War.  He 
spent  most  of  his  private  time  studying  the  art  of  war,  and  enjoyed  the  op 
portunity  of  being  constantly  with  his  wife  and  his  numerous  children.  In 
the  contest  with  Mexico  he  first  gave  proof  of  his  great  military  skill  and  of 
his  fine  personal  courage.  His  services  in  arranging  batteries,  in  reconnoi 
tring,  and  in  conducting  troops  to  their  stations  under  fire  won  from  General 
Winfield  Scott  the  statement  that  his  favorite  staff -officer  was  "  the  greatest 
military  genius  in  America."  After  the  capture  of  the  City  of  Mexico,  Lee 
was  busy  for  months  taking  surveys  of  the  place.  Then  for  three  years  he 
was  in  charge  of  the  defences  of  Baltimore,  and  for  three  years  more  (1852- 
1855)  superintendent  of  the  academy  at  West  Point.  Then  he  was  pro 
moted  to  be  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  Second  Cavalry  and  ordered  to  Texas, 
where  he  served  three  years  against  the  Indians.  In  the  autumn  of  1859, 
while*  on  leave  of  absence,  he  was  ordered  to  Harper's  Ferry  to  put  down  the 
John  Brown  insurrection,  a  duty  which  he  discharged  with  discretion.  Then 
during  1860  he  took  command  of  the  department  of  Texas.  In  February, 
1861,  in  the  midst  of  the  disturbances  preceding  Lincoln's  inauguration,  he 
was  recalled  to  Washington.  On  March  16,  he  was  appointed  colonel  of 
the  First  Cavalry,  and  a  month  later  was  offered  the  command  of  the  armies 
of  the  United  States.  This  offer  he  refused  because,  although  opposed  to 
secession,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  take  part  in  an  invasion  of  the  Southern 
states  —  that  is,  in  what  he  regarded  as  a  war  upon  his  people.  Then  on 
April  20  he  resigned  his  colonelcy  in  the  army  of  the  United  States,  and  three 
days  after  accepted  the  command  of  the  Virginia  forces.  For  a  few  months 
he  helped  President  Davis  to  organize  troops;  then  in  the  summer  and  fall 
he  conducted,  under  immense  difficulties,  an  ineffectual  campaign  in  what  is 
now  West  Virginia.  From  November,  1861,  to  March,  1862,  he  took  charge  of 
the  coast  defences  in  South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  doing  his  work  admirably, 
but  longing  for  more  active  and  hazardous  employment.  In  March,  1862,  he 
became  military  adviser  to  President  Davis,  and  on  June  I,  after  the  wounding 
of  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  he  was  put  at  the  head  of  the  Army  of  North 
ern  Virginia.  He  now  began  to  display  his  genius  as  a  commander.  The 
Seven  Days'  fighting  about  Richmond,  the  defeat  of  Pope  at  Second  Manas- 
sas,  the  invasion  of  Maryland,  the  hard-fought  battle  of  Sharpsburg,  or  Antie- 
tam,  the  great  victory  of  Fredericksburg  —  these  achievements  of  1862  placed 
him  among  the  chief  soldiers  of  the  world.  Then  came  the  victory  of  Chan- 
cellorsville,  with  the  death  of  "  Stonewall "  Jackson,  the  defeat  at  Gettysburg, 
the  masterly  retreat  across  the  Potomac.  In  1864  the  long-continued  resist 
ance  against  Grant's  great  army  —  from  the  Wilderness  to  Petersburg  — 
showed  that  the  end  was  approaching  so  far  as  concerned  the  strength  of  the 
South,  but  saw  no  diminution  of  Lee's  magnificent  bravery  and  skill,  or  of 
those  lovable  qualities  that  made  him  the  idol  of  his  soldiers  and  the  hero  of 


SPEECH  BEFORE    THE    VIRGINIA    CONVENTION      193 

his  fellow-Southerners.  In  February,  1865,  he  was  appointed  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  Confederate  armies,  but  it  was  too  late.  On  April  2  he  retreated 
from  Petersburg,  and  on  the  9th  he  surrendered  to  General  Grant  at  Appo- 
mattox  Court-House,  both  victor  and  vanquished  conducting  themselves  most 
nobly  in  their  interview.  In  the  trying  months-  that  followed  General  Lee 
did  all  that  he  could  to  cheer  up  his  despondent  fellow-citizens  and  to  induce 
them  to  yield  an  honest  allegiance  to  the  Union.  In  August,  1865,  he  was 
elected  President  of  Washington  College  (now  Washington  and  Lee  Univer 
sity)  at  Lexington,  Virginia.  He  discharged  the  duties  of  his  office  most 
successfully  until  his  death,  declining  to  enter  politics,  and  setting  an  example 
of  fortitude  and  charity  to  young  and  old.  His  memory  is,  if  possible,  more 
and  more  warmly  cherished  in  the  South  as  the  years  go  by,  and  his  noble 
character  as  a  man  and  his  brilliant  genius  as  a  soldier  are  being  more  and 
more  acknowledged  both  throughout  the  rest  of  America  and  throughout  the 
world.  As  a  writer  he  may  be  legitimately  included  in  a  volume  like  the 
present  for  the  reason  that  prompts  one  to  admit  Washington.  His  character 
was  so  lofty  that  it  made  whatever  he  did  and  wrote  worthy  of  admiration. 
For  his  life  see  biographies  by  John  Esten  Cooke  (q.v.t  1871),  General  A.  L. 
Long  (1887),  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  his  nephew  ("Great  Commanders," 
1894),  Professor  Henry  A.  White  ("Heroes  of  the  Nations,"  1897),  and  w- 
P.  Trent  ("Beacon  Biographies,"  1899).  An  important,  delightful  volume, 
entitled,  "  Recollections  and  Letters  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee,"  has  been 
edited  by  his  son,  Captain  Robert  E.  Lee  (1904).] 


SPEECH   OF  APRIL  23,   1861,  BEFORE  THE  VIRGINIA 
CONVENTION  1 

[FROM  "  RECOLLECTIONS  AND  LETTERS  OF  GENERAL  ROBERT  E.  LEE,"  BY 
CAPTAIN  ROBERT  E.  LEE.     1904.] 

[General  Lee  had  been  introduced  to  the  Convention  and  welcomed  by  its 
president,  John  Janney.  He  had  been  made  major-general  and  commander 
of  the  Virginia  forces,  and  in  this  short  speech,  worthy  of  Washington  in  its 
dignity,  he  accepted  the  charge.] 

"  Mr.  President  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Canvention :  Deeply 
impressed  with  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion  on  which  I  appear 
before  you,  and  profoundly  grateful  for  the  honor  conferred 
upon  me,  I  accept  the  position  your  partiality  has  assigned  me, 

1  Copyright,  1904.  By  kind  permission  of  Captain  Robert  E.  Lee  and  the  pub 
lishers,  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 


1 94  GENERAL  ROBERT  E.  LEE 

though  I  would  greatly  have  preferred  that  your  choice  should 
have  fallen  on  one  more  capable. 

"  Trusting  to  Almighty  God,  an  approving  conscience,  and 
the  aid  of  my  fellow-citizens,  I  will  devote  myself  to  the  defense 
and  service  of  my  native  State,  in  whose  behalf  alone  would  I 
have  ever  drawn  my  sword." 

TO  MRS.  LEE,  AFTER  THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF 
MANASSAS  ! 

[FROM  THE  SAME.    LETTER  OF  JULY  27,  1861.] 

"...  THAT  indeed  was  a  glorious  victory  and  has  lightened  the 
pressure  upon  our  front  amazingly.  Do  not  grieve  for  the  brave 
dead.  Sorrow  for  those  they  left  behind  —  friends,  relatives, 
and  families.  The  former  are  at  rest.  The  latter  must  suffer. 
The  battle  will  be  repeated  there  in  great  force.  I  hope  God  will 
again  smile  on  us  and  strengthen  our  hearts  and  arms.  I  wished 
to  partake  in  the  former  struggle,  and  am  mortified  at  my  absence, 
but  the  President  thought  it  more  important  I  should  be  here. 
I  could  not  have  done  as  well  as  has  been  done,  but  I  could 
have  helped,  and  taken  part  in  the  struggle  for  my  home  and 
neighbourhood.  So  the  work  is  done  I  care  not  by  whom  it  is 
done.  I  leave  to-morrow  for  the  Northwest  Army.  I  wished 
to  go  before,  as  I  wrote  you,  and  was  all  prepared,  but  the 
indications  were  so  evident  of  the  coming  battle,  and  in  the 
uncertainty  of  the  result,  the  President  forbade  my  departure. 
Now  it  is  necessary  and  he  consents.  I  cannot  say  for  how 
long,  but  will  write  you."  .  .  . 

TRAVELLER,  AS   DESCRIBED   BY   HIS   MASTER2 

[FROM  THE  SAME.    DICTATED  BY  GENERAL  LEE  TO  HIS  DAUGHTER,  Miss 
AGNES  LEE,  AT  LEXINGTON,  SHORTLY  AFTER  THE  WAR.] 

"  IF  I  were  an  artist  like  you  I  would  draw  a  true  picture  of 
Traveller  —  representing  his  fine  proportions,  muscular  figure, 

1  Copyright,  1904.  By  kind  permission  of  Captain  Robert  E.  Lee  and  the  pub- 
Ushers,  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.  2  Copyright,  etc. 


TRAVELLER,  AS  DESCRIBED  BY  HIS  MASTER       195 

deep  chest  and  short  back,  strong  haunches,  flat  legs,  small 
head,  broad  forehead,  delicate  ears,  quick  eye,  small  feet,  and 
black  mane  and  tail.  Such  a  picture  would  inspire  a  poet, 
whose  genius  could  then  depict  his  worth  and  describe  his  en 
durance  of  toil,  hunger,  thirst,  heat,  cold,  and  the  dangers  and 
sufferings  through  which  he  passed.  He  could  dilate  upon  his 
sagacity  and  affection,  and  his  invariable  response  to  every 
wish  of  his  rider.  He  might  even  imagine  his  thoughts, 
through  the  long  night  marches  and  days  of  battle  through 
which  he  has  passed.  But  I  am  no  artist ;  I  can  only  say  he 
is  a  Confederate  gray.  I  purchased  him  in  the  mountains  of 
Virginia  in  the  autumn  of  1861,  and  he  has  been  my  patient 
follower  ever  since  —  to  Georgia,  the  Carolinas,  and  back  to 
Virginia.  He  carried  me  through  the  Seven  Days  battle  around 
Richmond,  the  second  Manassas,  at  Sharpsburg,  Fredericks- 
burg,  the  last  day  at  Chancellorsville,  to  Pennsylvania,  at 
Gettysburg,  and  back  to  the  Rappahannock.  From  the  com 
mencement  of  the  campaign  in  1864  at  Orange,  till  its  close 
around  Petersburg,  the  saddle  was  scarcely  off  his  back,  as  he 
passed  through  the  fire  of  the  Wilderness,  Spottsylvania,  Cold 
Harbour,  and  across  the  James  River.  He  was  almost  in  daily 
requisition  in  the  winter  of  1864-65  on  the  long  line  of  defenses 
from  Chickahominy,  north  of  Richmond,  to  Hatcher's  Run, 
south  of  the  Appomattox.  In  the  campaign  of  1865,  he  bore 
me  from  Petersburg  to  the  final  days  at  Appomattox  Court 
House.  You  must  know  the  comfort  he  is  to  me  in  my  present 
retirement.  He  is  well  supplied  with  equipments.  Two  sets 
have  been  sent  to  him  from  England,  one  from  the  ladies  of 
Baltimore,  and  one  was  made  for  him  in  Richmond;  but  I 
think  his  favorite  is  the  American  saddle  from  St.  Louis.  Of 
all  his  companions  in  toil,  'Richmond,'  'Brown  Roan,'  'Ajax,' 
and  quiet  *  Lucy  Long,'  he  is  the  only  one  that  retained  his 
vigour.  The  first  two  expired  under  their  onerous  burden,  and 
the  last  two  failed.  You  can,  I  am  sure,  from  what  I  have  said, 
paint  his  portrait." 


196  GENERAL  ROBERT  E.  LEE 

TO   MRS.    LEE,   CHRISTMAS  DAY,   1862  * 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

"...  I  WILL  commence  this  holy  day  by  writing  to  you.  My 
heart  is  filled  with  gratitude  to  Almighty  God  for  His  unspeak 
able  mercies  with  which  He  has  blessed  in  this  day,  for  those 
He  has  granted  us  from  the  beginning  of  life,  and  partic 
ularly  for  those  He  has  vouchsafed  us  during  the  past  year. 
What  should  have  become^of  us  without  His  crowning  help  and 
protection  ?  Oh,  if  our  people  would  only  recognise  it  and  cease 
from  vain  self -boasting  and  adulation,  how  strong  would  be  my 
belief  in  final  success  and  happiness  to  our  country !  But  what 
a  cruel  thing  is  war ;  to  separate  and  destroy  families  and 
friends,  and  mar  the  purest  joys  and  happiness  God  has  granted 
us  in  this  world ;  to  fill  our  hearts  with  hatred  instead  of  love 
for 'our  neighbours,  and  to  devastate  the  fair  face  of  this  beauti 
ful  world  !  I  pray  that,  on  this  day  when  only  peace  and  good 
will  are  preached  to  mankind,  better  thoughts  may  fill  the 
hearts  of  our  enemies  and  turn  them  to  peace.  Our  army  was 
never  in  such  good  health  and  condition  since  I  have  been 
attached  to  it.  I  believe  they  share  with  me  my  disappoint 
ment  that  the  enemy  did  not  renew  the  combat  on  the  i3th. 
I  was  holding  back  all  day  and  husbanding  our  strength  and 
ammunition  for  the  great  struggle,  for  which  I  thought  I  was 
preparing.  Had  I  divined  that  was  to  have  been  his  only 
effort,  he  would  have  had  more  of  it.  My  heart  bleeds  at  the 
death  of  every  one  of  our  gallant  men." 

ORDER  FOR  A   DAY   OF   FASTING2 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

"  HEADQUARTERS,  ARMY  NORTHERN  VIRGINIA, 
"August  13,  1863. 

"  THE  President  of  the  Confederate  States  has,  in  the  name 
of  the  people,  appointed  August  2ist  as  a  day  of  fasting,  humilia- 
1  Copyright,  etc.  2  Copyright,  etc. 


DECLINING    THE    GIFT  OF  A  HOUSE  197 

tion,  and  prayer.  A  strict  observance  of  the  day  is  enjoined 
upon  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  this  army.  All  military 
duties,  except  such  as  are  absolutely  necessary,  will  be  sus 
pended.  The  commanding  officers  of  brigades  and  regiments 
are  requested  to  cause  divine  services,  suitable  to  the  occasion, 
to  be  performed  in  their  respective  commands.  Soldiers !  we 
have  sinned  against  Almighty  God.  We  have  forgotten  His 
signal  mercies,  and  have  cultivated  a  revengeful,  haughty,  and 
boastful  spirit.  We  have  not  remembered  that  the  defenders 
of  a  just  cause  should  be  pure  in  His  eyes  ;  that  '  our  times  are 
in  His  hands,'  and  we  have  relied  too  much  on  our  own  arms 
for  the  achievement  of  our  independence.  God  is  our  only 
refuge  and  our  strength.  Let  us  humble  ourselves  before  Him. 
Let  us  confess  our  many  sins,  and  beseech  Him  to  give  us  a 
higher  courage,  and  a  purer  patriotism,  and  more  determined 
will ;  that  He  will  convert  the  hearts  of  our  enemies  ;  that  He 
will  hasten  the  time  when  war,  with  its  sorrows  and  sufferings, 
shall  cease,  and  that  He  will  give  us  a  name  and  place  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth. 

"  R.  E.  LEE,  General." 

TO  THE   PRESIDENT   OF   THE   CITY  COUNCIL  OF  RICH 
MOND,  DECLINING  THE  GIFT  OF  A  HOUSE,  1863  1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

"...  I  ASSURE  you,  sir,  that  no  want  of  appreciation  of  the 
honor  conferred  upon  me  by  this  resolution  —  or  insensibility  to 
the  kind  feelings  which  prompted  it  —  induces  me  to  ask,  as  I 
most  respectfully  do,  that  no  further  proceedings  be  taken  with 
reference  to  the  subject.  The  house  is  not  necessary  for  the 
use  of  my  family,  and  my  own  duties  will  prevent  my  residence 
in  Richmond.  I  should  therefore  be  compelled  to  decline  the 
generous  offer,  and  I  trust  that  whatever  means  the  City  Coun 
cil  may  have  to  spare  for  this  purpose  may  be  devoted  to  the 
relief  of  the  families  of  our  soldiers  in  the  field,  who  are  more  in 
want  of  assistance,  and  more  deserving  it,  than  myself." 
1  Copyright,  etc. 


198  GENERAL  ROBERT  E.  LEE 


LEES  WANTED   IN   BATTLES,  NOT  AT   BALLS  * 
[  FROM  THE  SAME.    TAKEN  FROM  A  LETTER  TO  CAPTAIN  R.  E.  LEE, 

WRITTEN   EARLY  IN    1864.] 

"  .  .  .  I  ENCLOSE  a  letter  for  you,  which  has  been  sent  to  my 
care.  I  hope  you  are  well  and  all  around  you  are  so.  Tell 
Fitz,2 1  grieve  over  the  hardships  and  sufferings  of  his  men,  in 
their  late  expedition.  I  should  have  preferred  his  waiting  for 
more  favorable  weather.  He  accomplished  much  under  the 
circumstances,  but  would  have  done  more  in  better  weather. 
I  am  afraid  he  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  ball.  This  is  a 
bad  time  for  such  things.  We  have  too  grave  subjects  on  hand 
to  engage  in  such  trivial  amusements.  I  would  rather  his 
officers  should  entertain  themselves  in  fattening  their  horses, 
healing  their  men,  and  recruiting  their  regiments.  There  are 
too  many  Lees  on  the  committee.  I  like  all  to  be  present  at 
battles,  but  can  excuse  them  at  balls.  But  the  saying  is,  '  Chil 
dren  will  be  children.'  I  think  he  had  better  move  his  camp 
farther  from  Charlottesville,  and  perhaps  he  will  get  more  work 
and  less  play.  He  and  I  are  too  old  for  such  assemblies.  I 
want  him  to  write  me  how  his  men  are,  his  horses,  and  what  I 
can  do  to  fill  up  the  ranks."  .  .  . 

ORDER   ANNOUNCING    THE    DEATH   OF   GENERAL    J.   E. 
B.   STUART3 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

"...  AMONG  the  gallant  soldiers  who  have  fallen  in  this 
war,  General  Stuart  was  second  to  none  in  valour,  in  zeal,  and 
in  unflinching  devotion  to  his  country.  His  achievements  form 
a  conspicuous  part  of  the  history  of  this  army,  with  which  his 
name  and  service  will  be  forever  associated.  To  military  capac 
ity  of  a  high  order  and  to  the  noble  virtues  of  the  soldier  he 
added  the  brighter  graces  of  a  pure  life,  guided  and  sustained 
1  Copyright,  etc.  2  General  Fitzhugh  Lee.  8  Copyright,  etc. 


FINAL  ADDRESS    TO  HIS  SOLDIERS  199 

by  the  Christian's  faith  and  hope.  The  mysterious  hand  of  an 
all-wise  God  has  removed  him  from  the  scene  of  his  usefulness 
and  fame.  His  grateful  countrymen  will  mourn  his  loss  and 
cherish  his  memory.  To  his  comrades  in  arms  he  has  left  the 
proud  recollections  of  his  deeds  and  the  inspiring  influence  of 
his  example."  1 


LEE'S   FINAL  ADDRESS   TO   HIS   SOLDIERS2 

[FROM  THE  SAME.    DATED  APRIL  10,  1865,  THE  DAY  AFTER  THE  SURREN 
DER  AT  APPOMATTOX.] 

"  AFTER  four  years  of  arduous  service,  marked  by  unsurpassed 
courage  and  fortitude,  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  has  been 
compelled  to  yield  to  overwhelming  numbers  and  resources.  I 
need  not  tell  the  survivors  of  so  many  hard-fought  battles,  who 
have  remained  steadfast  to  the  last,  that  I  have  consented  to 
this  result  from  no  distrust  of  them  ;  but,  feeling  that  valour 
and  devotion  could  accomplish  nothing  that  could  compensate 
for  the  loss  that  would  have  attended  the  continuation  of  the 
contest,  I  have  determined  to  avoid  the  useless  sacrifice  of  those 
whose  past  services  have  endeared  them  to  their  countrymen. 
By  the  terms  of  the  agreement,  officers  and  men  can  return  to 
their  homes  and  remain  there  until  exchanged.  You  will  take 
with  you  the  satisfaction  that  proceeds  from  the  consciousness 
of  duty  faithfully  performed  ;  and  I  earnestly  pray  that  a  merci 
ful  God  will  extend  to  you  His  blessing  and  protection.  With 
an  increasing  admiration  of  your  constancy  and  devotion  to 
your  country,  and  a  grateful  remembrance  of  your  kind  and 
generous  consideration  of  myself,  I  bid  you  an  affectionate 
farewell. 

"  R.  E.  LEE,  General." 

1  General  Stuart  was  mortally  wounded  at  Yellow  Tavern,  and  died  in  Richmond, 
June  12,  1864. 

2  Copyright,  etc. 


200  GENERAL  ROBERT  E.  LEE 


GENERAL  LEE'S  LETTER  ACCEPTING  THE   PRESIDENCY 
OF  WASHINGTON   COLLEGE1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

"POWHATAN  COUNTY,  August  24,  1865. 

"  Gentlemen :  I  have  delayed  for  some  days  replying  to  your 
letter  of  the  5th  inst.  informing  me  of  my  election,  by  the  board 
of  trustees,  to  the  presidency  of  Washington  College,  from  a 
desire  to  give  the  subject  due  consideration.  Fully  impressed 
with  the  responsibilities  of  the  office,  I  have  feared  that  I 
should  be  unable  to  discharge  its  duties  to  the  satisfaction  of 
the  trustees,  or  to  the  benefit  of  the  country.  The  proper 
education  of  youth  requires  not  only  great  ability,  but  I  fear 
more  strength  than  I  now  possess,  for  I  do  not  feel  able  to  un 
dergo  the  labor  of  conducting  classes  in  regular  courses  of 
instruction.  I  could  not,  therefore,  undertake  more  than  the 
general  administration  and  supervision  of  the  institution. 
There  is  another  subject  which  has  caused  me  serious  reflec 
tion,  and  is,  I  think,  worthy  of  the  consideration  of  the  board. 
Being  excluded  from  the  terms  of  amnesty  in  the  proclamation 
of  the  President  of  the  United  States  of  the  2gth  of  May  last, 
and  an  object  of  censure  to  a  portion  of  the  country,  I  have 
thought  it  probable  that  my  occupation  of  the  position  of  presi 
dent  might  draw  upon  the  college  a  feeling  of  hostility ;  and  I 
should  therefore  cause  injury  to  an  institution  which  it  would 
be  my  highest  object  to  advance.  I  think  it  the  duty  of  every 
citizen,  in  the  present  condition  of  the  country,  to  do  all  in  his 
power  to  aid  in  the  restoration  of  peace  and  harmony,  and  in  no 
way  to  oppose  the  policy  of  the  State  or  general  government 
directed  to  that  object.  It  is  particularly  incumbent  on  those 
charged  with  the  instruction  of  the  young  to  set  them  an  ex 
ample  of  submission  to  authority,  and  I  could  not  consent  to  be 
the  cause  of  animadversion  upon  the  college.  Should  you, 
however,  take  a  different  view,  and  think  that  my  services,  in 

1  Copyright. 


JEFFERSON  DAVIS  2OI 

the  position  tendered  me  by  the  board,  will  be  advantageous  to 
the  college  and  the  country,  I  will  yield  to  your  judgment  and 
accept  it ;  otherwise  I  must  most  respectfully  decline  the  offer. 
Begging  you  to  express  to  the  trustees  of  the  college  my  heart 
felt  gratitude  for  the  honor  conferred  upon  me,  and  requesting 
you  to  accept  my  cordial  thanks  for  the  kind  manner  in  which 
you  have  communicated  their  decision,  I  am,  gentlemen,  with 
great  respect,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

"  R.  E.  LEE." 


JEFFERSON   DAVIS 

[JEFFERSON  DAVIS,  the  President  of  the  Confederate  States,  was  born  in  Chris 
tian  County,  Kentucky,  —  his  place  of  birth  being  in  what  is  now  Todd  County, 
—  June  3,  1808,  and  died  at  New  Orleans,  December  6,  1889.  When  he  was 
an  infant  his  family  removed  to  Mississippi,  but  he  returned  to  Kentucky  for 
part  of  his  schooling  and  went  to  the  well-known  Kentucky  institution,  Tran 
sylvania  University,  to  complete  his  education.  He  left  college,  however,  at  six 
teen  to  enter  West  Point,  where  he  graduated  in  1828.  He  saw  service  in  the 
Black  Hawk  War  of  1831-1832,  was  promoted  to  be  first  lieutenant,  and  again 
served  against  the  Indians.  He  resigned  from  the  army  in  1835,  and  made 
something  of  a  romantic  marriage  with  a  daughter  of  Zachary  Taylor,  after 
ward  President  of  the  United  States.  The  young  wife  —  with  whom  Mr.  Davis 
did  not  elope,  as  is  often  stated,  although  there  was  a  misunderstanding  with 
her  father  —  soon  died,  and  after  some  travelling  for  his  health  the  disconsolate 
widower  settled  with  an  elder  brother  as  a  planter  near  Vicksburg,  Mississippi. 
With  this  brother  he  studied  and  discussed  politics,  and  during  the  years  from 
1837  to  1843  he  became  a  conscientious  and  able  supporter  of  the  states'-rights 
theory  of  government.  In  1843  he  emerged  from  what  was  an  almost  hermit- 
like  retirement  and  took  some  practical  interest  in  politics;  two  years  later  he 
was  elected  to  Congress.  In  1846  he  was  elected  colonel  of  a  Mississippi  regi 
ment  and,  resigning  his  seat,  hastened  with  his  command  to  Mexico.  Both  at 
Monterey  and  at  Buena  Vista  he  showed  great  bravery,  and  at  the  latter  battle 
he  gave  evidence  of  marked  skill  as  a  leader  by  the  effective  formation  of  his 
troops.  Although  severely  wounded  he  remained  in  the  saddle  until  the  fight 
was  over.  In  August,  1847,  he  was  appointed  Senator  to  fill  a  vacancy,  and 
was  later  regularly  elected.  In  1851  he  resigned  his  seat  in  order  to  oppose 
the  Unionist  candidate  for  governor  of  Mississippi,  and,  although  he  was  not 
elected,  he  greatly  reduced  his  opponent's  expected  majority.  He  was  not 
long  out  of  politics,  for  his  friend,  Franklin  Pierce,  was  elected  President  in 
1852  and  offered  him  the  Secretaryship  of  War.  This  post  he  filled  with  great 


202  JEFFERSON  DAVIS 

ability  so  far  as  its  technical  duties  were  concerned;  he  was  also  one  of  the 
President's  chief  advisers  in  political  matters,  and  in  this  capacity  he  has  been 
praised  and  blamed,  according  to  the  bias  of  the  historian.  In  1857  he  entered 
the  Senate  once  more,  where  he  became  the  leader  of  the  extreme  Southern 
men,  partly  because  he  was  firm  rather  than  extravagant  in  maintaining  his 
principles.  He  was  not  yet  prepared  to  give  up  all  hope  of  preserving  the 
Union,  as  he  showed  in  speeches  delivered  throughout  the  North  in  1858.  The 
next  year  he  sided  with  those  Southerners  who  believed  that  the  election  of 
Lincoln  should  be  a  signal  for  the  secession  of  the  Southern  states.  He 
served  in  the  Senate  at  the  close  of  Buchanan's  term  until  officially  notified 
on  January  24,  1861,  of  the  secession  of  Mississippi.  Then  he  delivered  the 
dignified  and  conscientious  farewell  speech  from  which  an  extract  is  taken. 
He  was  made  commander  of  the  Mississippi  forces  and  shortly  after  (February 
9,  1861)  was  elected  President  of  the  Confederate  States  by  the  Provisional 
Congress  at  Montgomery,  Alabama.  Nine  days  later  he  delivered  his  inaugu 
ral  address.  Soon  afterward  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy  was  removed  to 
Richmond,  and  there  President  Davis  resided  until  the  end  of  the  war,  labor 
ing  with  unwavering  courage  and  marked  ability  to  utilize  all  the  resources  of 
his  section  in  the  struggle  that  had  begun.  It  is  even  yet  too  early  to  criticise 
impartially  and  accurately  his  management  of  affairs.  He  was  upheld  by 
many  of  his  fellow-Southerners,  harshly  criticised  by  others,  and  execrated  in 
the  North.  The  probability  seems  to  be  that  he  made  some  serious  mistakes, 
but  on  the  whole  governed  better  than  most  statesmen  would  have  done  under 
such  embarrassments.  His  devotion,  integrity,  and  ability  are  scarcely  matters 
of  doubt,  and  it  is  equally  clear  that  it  is  utterly  unfair  to  single  him  out  for 
blame  as  though  he  were  responsible  either  for  secession  or  for  the  failure  of 
the  Confederacy.  After  the  abandonment  of  Petersburg  he  still  cherished 
hopes  as  he  journeyed  southward;  but  these  were  cruelly  shattered  when  he  was 
arrested  in  Georgia  (May  10,  1865)  and  taken  to  Fortress  Monroe.  Here  he 
was  kept  a  prisoner  for  two  years,  an  indictment  for  treason  not  being  brought 
against  him  until  about  a  year  after  his  capture.1  In  May,  1867,  he  was 
released  on  a  heavy  bond  and  went  abroad.  In  December,  1868,  the  case 
against  him  was  abandoned  by  the  government,  and  he  was  included  in  the 
general  amnesty.  He  settled  in  Memphis  as  the  president  of  a  life  insur 
ance  company,  but  in  1879  he  removed  to  an  estate  bequeathed  him  at 
Beauvoir,  Mississippi,  where,  until  his  death,  he  devoted  himself  to  study  and 
writing.  He  delivered  addresses  in  the  South  occasionally,  and  he  was  loyally 
honored  and  supported  throughout  his  section.  In  1881  he  published  "The 
Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Confederate  Government,"  a  dignified,  well-written 
account  of  the  events  in  which  he  had  taken  such  a  conspicuous  part.  These 

1  It  seems  best  not  to  dwell  upon  the  treatment  of  Mr.  Davis  in  prison,  which 
outraged  and  still  outrages  the  South,  or  upon  the  government's  postponing  and 
abandoning  his  trial ;  recent  not  convincing  denials  of  harsh  treatment  and  other 
matters  require  an  impartial  investigation  still  very  difficult  to  obtain. 


A    TRANSCONTINENTAL  RAILWAY  NECESSARY      203 

volumes  and  those  of  Alexander  H.  Stephens  (^.^.)  rank  as  the  ablest  elabo 
rate  presentations  and  defences  of  the  Confederate  cause  made  by  its  leading 
representatives.  Mr.  Davis's  talents  as  a  writer  descended  to  his  daughter  by  a 
second  marriage,  the  late  Miss  Varina  Anne  (Winnie)  Davis ;  and  his  wife,  Mrs. 
Varina  Jefferson  Davis,  has  written  his  life  in  two  volumes  (1890).  There  is  no 
strictly  critical  biography,  although  one  is  much  needed.] 


A   TRANSCONTINENTAL  RAILWAY  NECESSARY   TO  THE 

UNION 

[FROM  "SPEECH  OF  THE  HON.  JEFFERSON  DAVIS  OF  MISSISSIPPI,  ON  THE 
PACIFIC  RAILROAD  BILL,  DELIVERED  IN  THE  SENATE  OF  THE  UNITED 
STATES,  JANUARY,  1859,"  BALTIMORE,  1859.] 

THE  first  question,  it  strikes  me,  which  meets  us  in  the  consid 
eration  of  this  subject,  is  the  necessity  for  a  railroad  across  the 
continent.  If  there  be  no  necessity  for  the  railroad  for  Govern 
ment  purposes ;  if  it  be  merely  to  facilitate  migration  across  the 
continent,  to  encourage  settlement  along  the  line  of  the  road, 
without  contributing  to  the  ends  for  which  the  Government  was 
instituted,  without  enabling  it  to  perform  the  duty  which  was  im 
posed  upon  it ;  without,  I  say,  being  necessary  to  the  execution 
of  its  duty,  then  I  hold  there  is  no  constitutional  power  to  build  it. 
Therefore,  in  the  front  ground  with  me,  stands  the  question,  is 
the  road  necessary  ?  I  hold  it  to  be  essential  in  time  of  peace ; 
essential  for  that  intercourse  which  alone  can  hold  the  different 
parts  of  our  wide-expanded  Republic  together.  Separated  as  we 
are  by  an  intermediate  desert,  fronting  as  we  do  upon  different 
oceans,  looking  out  to  the  teeming  population  of  Asia  on  one  side, 
and  the  active  people  of  Europe  on  the  other,  it  must  ensue,  when 
ever  our  Pacific  possessions  are  peopled,  that  they  will  have  dif 
ferent  interests ;  they  will  have  an  opposite  commerce ;  and  if 
they  are  required  to  come  through  a  foreign  country,  to  look  over 
impassable  mountains,  to  learn  here  by  what  laws  they  shall  be 
governed  ;  if  our  commerce  is  to  continue  as  separate,  as  opposite, 
as  it  will  be  unless  these  two  parts  are  more  nearly  linked  together, 
the  finger  of  destiny  points  inevitably  to  a  separation  of  these  two 
parts  of  the  United  States. 


2O4  JEFFERSON  DAVIS 

In  the  history  of  man,  and  history  is  said  to  be  philosophy  teach 
ing  by  example,1  we  find  no  instance  where  a  country  has  main 
tained  the  integrity  of  its  territory  if  that  territory  is  riven  by  a 
chain  of  mountains.  We  find  the  war-like  and  semi-barbarous 
hordes  of  Asia  running  over  the  south  of  Europe ;  at  one  time  a 
single  military  hero  covering  all  the  vast  plains  which  lay  beneath 
him ;  but  soon  we  find  those  conquering  legions  separating  from 
the  people  from  whom  they  emanated,  and  in  short  time  the  States 
they  had  conquered  again  assuming  the  geographical  limits  they 
had  before  the  invasion.  And  so,  at  a  more  modern  period,  Napo 
leon  led  victorious  armies  over  the  Alps  and  over  the  Pyrenees ; 
but  those  barriers  which  the  hand  of  nature  had  placed  again  de 
manded  the  separation  of  the  country  into  its  original  parts ;  and 
soon  after  the  conquest  we  find  France  again  reduced  to  the  plains 
lying  between  those  mountain  ridges,  and  there  to-day  she  stands 
as  before  her  imperial  conquests. 

Thus  inevitably  do  we  reach  the  conclusion  that  mountains 
divide  a  people.  But  we  are  not  divided  merely  by  a  mountain 
ridge,  along  each  base  of  which,  and  up  the  slopes  of  which,  a 
teeming  population  may  hereafter  live ;  we  are  separated  by  a 
system  of  mountains  with  desert  plains,  where,  save  here  and 
there  some  irrigable  spots,  agricultural  man  can  never  reside. 
Then  the  question  presents  itself,  shall  we  share  the  fate  which 
history,  by  the  example  of  all  nations  which  have  preceded  us, 
indicates  as  our  future,  or  so  change  the  conditions  of  the  problem 
as  to  obtain  the  opposite  result  ?  Shall  we  allow  our  territory  to 
be  divided?  Shall  the  United  States  commence  her  downward 
step  by  losing  the  rich  possessions  she  now  holds  on  the  Pacific, 
as  the  inevitable  consequence  of  that  separation  which  mountains 
and  deserts  demand?  Or  shall  we  use  the  power  which  science 
and  art,  and  the  progress  of  civilization  have  conferred  upon  man, 
overcome  the  physical  obstacle,  bind  these  two  parts  together,  and 
hold  this  country  one  and  indivisible  ?  These  are  questions  which, 
I  think,  it  belongs  to  the  statesman  to  consider. 


1  Attributed  to  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  by  Lord  Bolingbroke  in  his  second 
letter, "  On  the  Study  and  Use  of  History." 


A    TRANSCONTINENTAL  RAILWAY  NECESSARY 

MR.  DAVIS.  Then,  Mr.  President,  the  Senator  [Henry  Wilson, 
of  Massachusetts]  attributes  to  me  a  bias  on  account  of  my  resi 
dence.  I  believe  no  man  loves  the  section  in  which  he  lives  bet 
ter  than  I  do.  Every  fiber  of  my  heart  would  respond  to  the 
rights  and  interests  of  that  section,  whenever  they  are  involved. 
But  I  feel,  Sir,  that  a  public  officer  has  a  higher  duty  than  that 
which  his  sentiments  and  his  feelings  prompt,  and  think  I  can 
show  to  the  Senator  that  he  is  entirely  mistaken  in  the  conclusion 
at  which  he  has  arrived.  As  he  does  not  question  my  motives,  so 
I  shall  not  impugn  his ;  but  from  the  record  will  conclusively  prove 
to  him,  or  to  any  other  man  who  may  be  prejudiced  like  himself, 
that  if  there  be  a  difference  at  all,  it  is  upon  the  other  side.  I  am 
not  conscious  of  ever  having  favored  one  line  or  the  other ;  but  if 
the  record  leads  to  such  conclusion,  it  must  convict  me  of  having 
favored  the  extreme  northern  line ;  so  it  stands. 


My  position  is,  that  the  completion  of  this  great  work  is  neces 
sary  to  the  due  execution  of  the  functions  of  the  General  Govern 
ment,  that  it  will  not  be  achieved  by  private  capital  alone,  therefore 
that  we  should  strike  off  every  shackle  which  impedes  its  execu 
tion  ;  should  abandon  the  right  to  collect  duty  on  the  iron  em 
ployed  ;  give  the  whole  limit  of  the  United  States  from  which  to 
select  a  route ;  extend  every  aid  we  can  constitutionally  afford,  to 
insure  the  construction  of  the  road  somewhere,  be  it  where  it  may, 
so  that  it  is  on  the  soil  of  the  United  States.  If  by  haggling  over 
petty  sectional  controversies,  if  by  sticking  in  the  bark  and  destroy 
ing  the  vital  energy  of  the  Constitution,  politicians  shall  defeat  the 
efforts  which  have  been  made  from  session  to  session,  shall  pros 
trate  the  last  hope  for  this  road  across  the  continent,  and  thus 
unprepared  should  we  become  involved  in  a  war  with  the  great 
maritime  Powers  of  Europe,  they  may,  when  it  is  too  late  to  avert 
the  disasters  which  have  been  so  often  foretold,  have  cause  to 
pray  for  the  mountains  to  fall  upon  and  cover  them  from  public 
indignation ;  to  them  may  attach  the  blame,  on  us  all  may  press 
the  shame  and  sorrow  of  having  lost  to  the  country  a  territory 
worth  innumerable  treasure,  of  having  forfeited  that,  the  value  of 


2O6  JEFFERSON  DAVIS 

which  cannot  be  measured  by  money  —  the  prestige  of  stability, 
progress  and  invincibility,  and  the  right  to  inscribe  on  our  national 
shield  EQUAL  TO  THE  PROTECTION  OF  A  CONTINENT-WIDE  REPUBLIC. 


FROM  SENATOR  DA  VIS'S  FAREWELL  SPEECH  TO  THE 

SENATE 

[DELIVERED  JANUARY  21,  1861.     THE  TEXT  is  THAT  OF 
The  Congressional  Globe  FOR  JANUARY  22,  I86I.1] 

IT  has  been  a  conviction  of  pressing  necessity,  it  has  been  a 
belief  that  we  are  to  be  deprived  in  the  Union  of  the  rights  which 
our  fathers  bequeathed  to  us,  which  has  brought  Mississippi  to 
her  present  decision.  She  has  heard  proclaimed  the  theory  that 
all  men  are  created  free  and  equal,  and  this  made  the  basis  of  an 
attack  upon  her  social  institutions ;  and  the  sacred  Declaration  of 
Independence  has  been  invoked  to  maintain  the  position  of  the 
equality  of  the  races.  That  Declaration  of  Independence  is  to  be 
construed  by  the  circumstances  and  purposes  for  which  it  was 
made.  The  communities  were  declaring  their  independence  ;  the 
people  of  those  communities  were  asserting  that  no  man  was  born 
—  to  use  the  language  of  Mr.  Jefferson  —  booted  and  spurred,  to 
ride  over  the  rest  of  mankind ;  that  men  were  created  equal  — 
meaning  the  men  of  the  political  community ;  that  there  was  no 
divine  right  to  rule ;  that  no  man  inherited  the  right  to  govern ; 
that  there  were  no  classes  by  which  power  and  place  descended 
to  families ;  but  that  all  stations  were  equally  within  the  grasp  of 
each  member  of  the  body  politic.  These  were  the  great  principles 
they  announced ;  these  were  the  purposes  for  which  they  made 
their  declaration ;  these  were  the  ends  to  which  their  enunciation 
was  directed.  They  have  no  reference  to  the  slave ;  else,  how 
happened  it  that  among  the  items  of  arraignment  against  George 
III.  was  that  he  endeavored  to  do  just  what  the  North  has  been 
endeavoring  of  late  to  do — to  stir  up  insurrection  among  our  slaves  ? 
Had  the  Declaration  announced  that  the  negroes  were  free  and 

1  The  speech  may  also  be  found  in  "  The  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Confederate 
Government." 


FAREWELL  SPEECH  TO    THE  SENATE  2O? 

equal,  how  was  the  Prince  to  be  arraigned  for  raising  up  insurrec 
tion  among  them  ?  And  how  was  this  to  be  enumerated  among 
the  high  crimes  which  caused  the  colonies  to  sever  their  connec 
tion  with  the  mother  country  ?  When  our  Constitution  was  formed, 
the  same  idea  was  rendered  more  palpable ;  for  there  we  find 
provision  made  for  that  very,  class  of  persons  as  property ;  they 
were  not  put  upon  the  footing  of  equality  with  white  men  —  not 
even  upon  that  of  paupers  and  convicts ;  but,  so  far  as  representa 
tion  was  concerned,  were  discriminated  against  as  a  lower  caste, 
only  to  be  represented  in  the  numerical  proportion  of  three  fifths. 

Then,  Senators,  we  recur  to  the  compact  which  binds  us  to 
gether;  we  recur  to  the  principles  upon  which  our  Govern 
ment  was  founded ;  and  when  you  deny  them,  and  when  you 
deny  to  us  the  right  to  withdraw  from  a  Government  which, 
thus  perverted,  threatens  to  be  destructive  of  our  rights,  we  but 
tread  in  the  path  of  our  fathers  when  we  proclaim  our  indepen 
dence  and  take  the  hazard.  This  is  done,  not  in  hostility  to 
others,  not  to  injure  any  section  of  the  country,  not  even  for  our 
own  pecuniary  benefit ;  but  from  the  high  and  solemn  motive  of 
defending  and  protecting  the  rights  we  inherited,  and  which  it  is 
our  sacred  duty  to  transmit  unshorn  to  our  children. 

I  find  in  myself,  perhaps,  a  type  of  the  general  feeling  of  my 
constituents  towards  yours.  I  am  sure  I  feel  no  hostility  toward 
you,  Senators  from  the  North.  I  am  sure  there  is  not  one  of  you, 
whatever  sharp  discussion  there  may  have  been  between  us,  to 
whom  I  cannot  now  say,  in  the  presence  of  my  God,  I  wish  you 
well ;  and  such,  I  am  sure,  is  the  feeling  of  the  people  whom  I 
represent  towards  those  whom  you  represent.  I,  therefore,  feel 
that  I  but  express  their  desire  when  I  say  I  hope,  and  they  hope, 
for  peaceable  relations  with  you,  though  we  must  part.  They  may 
be  mutually  beneficial  to  us  in  the  future,  as  they  have  been  in 
the  past,  if  you  so  will  it.  The  reverse  may  bring  disaster  on 
every  portion  of  the  country ;  and,  if  you  will  have  it  thus,  we  will 
invoke  the  God  of  our  fathers,  who  delivered  them  from  the  power 
of  the  lion,  to  protect  us  from  the  ravages  of  the  bear ;  and  thus, 
putting  our  trust  in  God  and  in  our  own  firm  hearts  and  strong 
arms,  we  will  vindicate  the  right  as  best  we  may. 


208  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

In  the  course  of  my  service  here,  associated  at  different  times 
with  a  great  variety  of  Senators,  I  see  now  around  me  some  with 
whom  I  have  served  long ;  there  have  been  points  of  collision ; 
but,  whatever  of  offence  there  has  been  to  me,  I  leave  here.  I 
carry  with  me  no  hostile  remembrance.  Whatever  offence  I  have 
given  which  has  not  been  redressed,  or  for  which  satisfaction  has 
not  been  demanded,  I  have,  Senators,  in  this  hour  of  our  parting, 
to  offer  you  my  apology  for  any  pain  which,  in  heat  of  discus 
sion,  I  have  inflicted.  I  go  hence  unencumbered  of  the  remem 
brance  of  any  injury  received,  and  having  discharged  the  duty  of 
making  the  only  reparation  in  my  power  for  any  injury  offered. 

Mr.  President  and  Senators,  having  made  the  announcement 
which  the  occasion  seemed  to  me  to  require,  it  only  remains  for 
me  to  bid  you  a  final  adieu. 


EDGAR  ALLAN   POE 

[EDGAR  ALLAN  POE  was  born  in  Boston,  January  19,  1809,  and  died  in 
Baltimore,  October  7,  1849.  He  was  the  son  of  David  Poe,  who  came  of 
good  Maryland  stock,  and  Elizabeth  Arnold,  an  English  actress  whose  first 
husband  was  named  Hopkins.  The  pair  played  in  various  cities  and  led  a 
precarious  existence.  Before  Edgar  was  three  years  old  his  father  and  mother 
had  died,  and  he  himself,  with  an  elder  brother  and  a  younger  sister,  had  been 
thrown  upon  the  world  in  Richmond,  Virginia.  He  found  a  second  mother 
in  Mrs.  John  Allan,  wife  of  a  well-to-do  tobacco  merchant.  He  was  brought 
up  in  comfort,  if  not  comparative  luxury,  and  at  the  age  of  six  was  taken  to 
England  and  put  to  school  at  Stoke-Newington.  In  1820  the  Allans  returned 
to  America,  and  Edgar  was  sent  to  school  once  more  in  Richmond.  He  dis 
tinguished  himself  as  a  swimmer,  declaimer,  student,  and  general  leader  of 
his  school  fellows,  but  also  displayed  a  certain  aloofness  and  perhaps  gave 
signs  of  possessing  a  romantic  and  morbid  temperament. 

In  February,  1826,  he  entered  Jefferson's  newly  opened  University  of  Vir 
ginia.  He  showed  proficiency  in  the  languages,  and  escaped  all  official  censure 
of  his  conduct,  but  associated  with  wild  students  and  lost  heavy  sums  of 
money.  Mr.  Allan  refused  to  pay  these  "  debts  of  honor,"  and  placed  the 
insulted  Poe  at  a  counting-room  desk.  The  affair  is  rather  obscure,  but  it  is 
plain  that  Poe  could  not  stand  the  punishment  imposed  on  him.  In  some  way 
he  reached  Boston,  and  in  the  late  spring  of  1827  enlisted  in  the  army  as 
Edgar  A.  Perry.  In  the  summer  he  published  his  tiny  and  now  very  rare 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE  2OQ 

volume  entitled  "  Tamerlane  and  Other  Poems,"  and  in  the  autumn  he  was 
transferred  to  Fort  Moultrie,  near  Charleston,  the  scene  of  his  famous  story, 
"The  Gold-Bug."  Toward  the  end  of  1828  he  was  transferred  to  Fortress 
Monroe,  Virginia,  where  on  the  first  of  the  new  year  he  was  promoted  for 
merit  to  be  sergeant-major.  Communications  were  now  opened  with  the 
Allans,  and  Poe  was  given  leave  of  absence  that  he  might  bid  farewell  to  Mrs. 
Allan,  who  was  on  her  death-bed.  The  furlough  came  too  late,  but  it  was 
arranged  with  Mr.  Allan  that  a  substitute  should  be  provided  for  Poe,  and 
that  he  should  try  to  enter  West  Point.  While  waiting  for  this  scheme  to  be 
carried  into  effect,  Poe  resided  in  Baltimore,  where  late  in  1829  he  published 
his  second  volume,  "  Al  Aaraaf,  Tamerlane,  and  Minor  Poems."  On  July  I, 
1830,  he  entered  West  Point.  He  did  well  in  some  classes,  but  spent  much 
of  his  time  in  dissipation,  partly  because  his  hopes  of  a  share  in  Mr.  Allan's 
fortune  were  rendered  vain  by  the  latter's  second  marriage.  In  January,  1831, 
he  took  a  decisive  step  by  neglecting  all  duties  for  two  weeks,  the  result  of 
which  was  a  court-martial  and  dismissal.  He  went  to  New  York,  and  there, 
relying  on  the  subscriptions  of  his  fellow-cadets,  he  issued  a  volume  entitled 
"  Poems,"  which  contained  "  Israfel "  and  the  stanzas  "  To  Helen." 

Scarcely  anything  is  known  of  his  life  for  the  next  two  years.  He  tried  in 
various  ways  to  make  a  living  in  Baltimore,  wrote  his  earliest  stories,  con 
tinued  his  bad  habits,  apparently,  and  broke  finally  with  the  Allans.  Yet  he 
was  not  friendless.  These  dark  years  in  Baltimore  made  him  an  inmate  of 
the  house  of  widowed  Mrs.  Clemm,  his  father's  sister,  in  whom  he  found 
a  true  guardian  angel.  And  in  her  fragile  young  daughter  Virginia  he  found 
another  spiritual  comforter  of  a  less  protective  but  not  less  influential  kind  — 
a  shadowy  embodiment  of  his  ideals  of  beauty  and  pathos. 

In  October,  1833,  his  fortunes  seemed  to  brighten,  for  he  not  only  won  a 
prize  of  one  hundred  dollars  by  his  story  "  Ms.  Found  in  a  Bottle,"  but  secured 
the  friendly  help  of  the  romancer,  John  P.  Kennedy  (^.^.)-  Through  the  latter 
he  obtained  employment  (1835)  on  the  newly  established  Soiithern  Literary 
Messenger,  and,  removing  to  Richmond,  he  married  his  child-cousin,  Virginia. 
For  a  time  he  thought  himself  a  made  man,  and  his  remarkable  tales  and  the 
severe  criticism  he  bestowed  on  some  popular  but  undeserving  books  made  him 
famous  throughout  the  country.  His  habits  soon  put  an  end  to  his  prospects, 
however,  and  in  January,  1837,  he  removed  to  New  York,  where  he  failed  to 
secure  permanent  literary  work,  his  single  long  story,  "  The  Narrative  of  Arthur 
Gordon  Pym  "  (1838),  not  proving  a  success. 

In  the  summer  of  1838  a  new  start  was  made  in  Philadelphia.  That  city 
was  then  the  centre  for  magazines,  and  Poe  was  fully  beset  with  the  idea 
of  establishing  an  independent  organ  of  his  own.  Pending  this  consummation 
he  contributed  to  the  journals  of  others  some  of  the  highly  imaginative  stories 
that  have  made  him  famous.  In  about  a  year  he  secured  on  The  Gentleman's 
Magazine  a  position,  which  he  lost  by  the  summer  of  1840.  He  had  mean 
while  gathered  his  fiction  in  two  volumes,  "  Tales  of  the  Grotesque  and 


2IO  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

Arabesque"  (1840),  which  had  been  favorably  reviewed,  but  had  perhaps 
been  so  unique  as  to  fail  of  wide  circulation.  Then  he  tried  to  set  up  a  peri 
odical  of  his  own,  and,  not  succeeding,  took  a  place  on  Graham's  Magazine, 
which  he  held  for  only  a  short  time.  Two  more  years  were  spent  in  Phila 
delphia,  during  which  the  unfortunate  man  deteriorated  in  character,  although 
his  imagination  did  not  decline  and  his  powers  of  ratiocination  developed 
to  almost  a  marvellous  degree,  as  is  shown  in  such  stories  as  "The  Murders 
in  the  Rue  Morgue  "  and  in  his  solution  of  cryptograms. 

In  the  spring  of  1844  he  returned  to  New  York  and  soon  formed  a  con 
nection  with  the  kind-hearted  poet  and  editor,  N.  P.  Willis.  On  January  29, 
1845,  Willis's  journal,  The  Evening  Mirror,  published  in  advance,  from  the 
American  Review  for  February,  that  marvellous  tour  de force,  "The  Raven," 
and  Poe's  reputation,  although  not  his  worldly  fortune,  was  made.  Sketches 
of  his  life  began  to  appear ;  he  was  invited  to  deliver  lectures  ;  and  collections 
of  his  tales  and  poems  were  issued  and  highly  praised,  both  at  home  and 
abroad.  It  even  seemed  in  1845  that  in  The  Broadway  Journal  he  had 
secured  the  permanent  organ  of  his  own  that  had  so  long  been  the  object 
of  his  dreams.  But  literature  was  not  yet  a  profitable  profession  save  to  a 
gifted  reporter  like  Willis,  and  Poe  was  unable  to  get  clear  of  debt.  The 
Broadway  Journal  soon  failed  for  lack  of  funds,  and  Poe  recklessly  squan 
dered  the  only  capital  he  possessed,  his  reputation,  by  making  personal 
enemies  in  a  thoroughly  unnecessary  way.  He  assailed  poetasters  with 
ill-judged  severity,  accused  Longfellow  and  others  of  plagiarism,  and  insulted 
a  Boston  audience  by  reciting  a  juvenile  poem  instead  of  one  specially  pre 
pared  for  the  occasion.  As  if  determined  to  write  himself  down,  he  pub 
lished  in  1846,  in  "  Godey's  Lady's  Book,"  a  series  of  articles  entitled  "The 
Literati,"  in  which  he  discussed  the  ephemeral  writers  whom  he  had  met 
socially  and  professionally  in  New  York,  in  a  fashion  that  benefited  them  and 
the  public  as  little  as  himself.  With  one  class  of  contemporary  writers,  how 
ever,  Poe  was  not  at  war.  The  poetesses  were,  as  a  rule,  treated  by  him,  not 
merely  with  deserved  courtesy,  but  with  undeserved  admiration.  Feminine 
sympathy  was  always  necessary  to  him,  and  without  the  two  women  of  his 
household  and  the  idealized  women  of  his  poems  and  tales,  both  his  life  and 
his  works  would  have  been  shorn  of  their  most  beautiful  features.  Yet  with 
out  being  censorious,  one  may  regret  most  of  Poe's  relations  with  women, 
especially  those  subsequent  to  his  wife's  death.  This  event,  which  forms  an 
important  stage  in  his  moral  and  physical  decline,  took  place  on  January  30, 
1847,  in  a  little  cottage  at  Fordham,  a  village  just  outside  New  York.  Previ 
ous  to  it  the  family  had  sunk  to  such  destitution  that  an  appeal  to  public 
charity  was  made  without  Poe's  knowledge  and  to  his  great  chagrin.  The 
poet  was  himself  ill,  and  continued  so  for  many  months;  but  under  the  care 
of  Mrs.  Clemm  and  another  kind  woman  he  slowly  recovered  and  set  to  work 
upon  the  cosmogonical  speculations  contained  in  that  marvellous  although 
perhaps  scientifically  valueless  book  entitled  "  Eureka  "  (1848). 


EDGAR  ALLAN  FOE  211 

The  last  two  years  of  his  life  were  marked  by  frequent  fits  of  intoxication 
and  by  several  love  affairs  over  which  it  is  best  to  draw  a  veil.  But  they  were 
also  marked  by  the  composition  of  several  of  his  best  poems,  for  example, 
"  Ulalume,"  "  The  Bells,"  and  "  Annabel  Lee,"  by  fresh  efforts  to  found  a 
magazine,  and  by  public  lectures  like  that  on  "  The  Poetic  Principle,"  which 
were  cordially  applauded  by  the  public.  In  the  early  fall  of  1849  he  was 
kindly  received  by  his  old  friends  in  Richmond,  and  he  became  engaged  to  a 
former  sweetheart,  a  Mrs.  Shelton. 

He  then  left  Richmond  to  arrange  for  his  wedding  ;  was  discovered  in 
Baltimore  on  October  3,  1849,  lying  senseless  in  a  saloon  which  was  being 
used  for  a  polling-place;  was  removed  to  a  hospital,  where  he  remained 
almost  continuously  in  delirium;  and  died  early  in  the  morning  of  Sunday, 
October  7.  Many  conflicting  accounts  have  been  given  of  the  mode  and 
causes  of  his  death;  all  that  is  absolutely  certain  is  that  he  died  miserably  at 
an  age  when,  under  happier  circumstances,  he  might  have  been  at  the  zenith 
of  a  great  career. 

Since  his  death  Poe's  fame  has  been  frequently  assailed,  chiefly  in  his  own 
country,  but  it  has  continued  to  grow  steadily.  He  is  regarded  by  many  foreign 
critics,  and  perhaps  by  a  majority  of  foreign  readers,  as  the  greatest  of  American 
writers,  and  to  this  opinion  a  fair  minority  of  his  countrymen  subscribe.  He 
claims  attention  in  four  ways.  His  biography,  if  more  unpleasant,  is  at  the 
same  time  fuller  of  interest  in  the  contrasts  and  the  complexities  it  presents 
than  that  of  any  other  American  author.  His  criticism,  at  the  lowest  valua 
tion,  is  full  of  suggestiveness,  accords  in  many  particulars  with  the  principles 
of  current  impressionism,  and,  even  on  its  destructive  side,  is  of  importance 
to  the  student  of  American  literature.  His  fiction  is  generally  considered 
supreme  in  its  peculiar  kind.  He  is  an  acknowledged  master  in  the  ratiocin- 
ative  tale,  including  the  detective  story,  which  he  practically  originated.  In 
tales  of  compelling  horror,  of  haunting  mystery,  of  ethereal  beauty,  of  tragic 
situation,  of  morbid  analysis  of  conscience,  he  has  no  clear  superior;  and  in 
his  attempts  at  the  grotesque,  he  at  least  shows  power  and  versatility.  In  the 
construction  of  his  stories,  and  at  times  in  his  style,  he  yields  to  few  writers  of 
his  kind  —  in  other  words,  he  takes  high  rank  as  a  self-conscious  artist.  His 
appeal  is  limited  by  the  fact  that  the  substance  of  his  fiction  lies  apart  from 
human  experience,  but  the  reception  given  his  tales  in  France  alone  would 
seem  to  contradict  the  assertion  often  made  that  they  are  meretricious  in  con 
ception  and  execution. 

Poe  makes  his  fourth  claim  to  attention  in  the  slender  volume  of  his  verses. 
He  was  primarily  a  poet,  and  perhaps  in  England  and  America  it  is  as  a  poet 
that  he  is  chiefly  valued.  His  genius,  on  the  side  of  color  and  melody, 
matured  surprisingly  early,  and  even  when  his  artistic  search  for  perfection 
and  the  embarrassments  of  his  life  are  taken  into  account,  his  comparative  in 
fertility  is  a  matter  of  wonder  and  regret.  This  infertility  places  him  with 
important  classical  poets  like  Gray  rather  than  with  great  poets  like  Tennyson, 


212  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

Byron,  and  Shelley,  or  with  supreme  masters  of  their  art  like  Milton.  It  is 
partly  due  to  the  narrowness  of  Poe's  poetic  theories,  which  limited  his  themes 
and  in  so  far,  save  in  the  case  of  "  The  Raven,"  his  audience.  But  his  limited 
range  in  turn  accounts  in  part  both  for  the  perfection  of  his  workmanship  and 
for  the  intensity  of  the  impression  he  produces  upon  appreciative  readers.  To 
some  persons  he  seems  the  embodiment  of  essential  poetry,  to  others  a  mere 
stringer  of  jingles.  Neither  view  is  correct,  but  there  is  a  greater  measure  of 
truth  in  the  first  than  in  the  second.  It  is  no  small  achievement  to  have  sung 
imperishable  songs  of  bereaved  love  and  illusive  beauty.  It  is  no  small 
achievement  to  have  produced  unexcelled  strains  of  harmony  that  have  since 
so  rung  in  the  ears  of  brother  poets  that  echoes  of  them  may  be  detected  even 
in  the  verses  of  such  accomplished  artists  as  Rossetti  and  Swinburne.  Due 
attention  to  the  influence  exerted  by  Poe's  poems  and  tales  upon  both  his 
own  and  other  literatures  would  have  rendered  the  task  of  assigning  him  his 
proper  rank  among  American  writers  much  less  difficult.  It  must  be  admitted 
on  the  other  hand  that  Poe's  admirers  have  been  often  far  too  censorious  in 
their  attitude  toward  poets  differently  endowed.  Joy  for  the  possession  of  such 
lyrics  as  "  To  One  in  Paradise  "  and  "  The  Haunted  Palace  "  should  not  lead 
us  to  speak  with  contempt  of  "  The  Day  is  Done  "  and  "  The  Psalm  of  Life," 
for  Longfellow  is  in  his  quiet,  reflective  way  as  true  a  poet  as  the  more  original 
and  artistic  Poe.  The  ocean  of  renown  is  very  wide;  there  is  room  upon 
it  for  many  barks,  nor  need  they  be  all  stately  or  even  shapely. 

Of  the  numerous  editions  of  Poe's  works  and  the  books  dealing  with  his 
life  and  his  literary  achievements,  only  a  few  need  be  mentioned  here.  The 
earliest  memoir  and  edition  by  R.  W.  Griswold  (1850-1856)  proved  unsatis 
factory  because  the  biographer  and  editor  lacked  sympathy  with  his  subject. 
Much  better  were  the  life  (1880,  1886)  and  the  edition  (4  vols.,  1874-1875) 
by  the  Englishman,  J.  H.  Ingram,  who  was,  however,  overzealous  in  Poe's 
behalf.  The  memoir  and  edition  by  Richard  Henry  Stoddard  (6  vols.,  1884) 
left  much  to  be  desired,  especially  with  regard  to  the  attitude  toward  Poe  as 
sumed  in  the  memoir.  In  1885  Professor  George  E.  Woodberry  contributed 
to  the  "  American  Men  of  Letters  "  a  volume  which  may  be  said  to  mark  the 
beginning  of  a  new  era  in  Poe  criticism;  whatever  its  defects  of  sympathy,  it 
was  noteworthy  in  its  acumen  and  scholarship.  In  1894  Mr.  Edmund  Clar 
ence  Stedman  and  Professor  Woodberry  joined  to  produce  an  excellent  edition 
of  Poe's  works  in  ten  volumes  to  which  Mr.  Woodberry  prefixed  an  elaborate 
memoir.  In  1902  Professor  C.  F.  Richardson  edited  the  "  Arnheim  Edition" 
of  the  works  in  ten  volumes,  and  Professor  J.  A.  Harrison  the  "  Virginia  Edi 
tion  "  in  seventeen  volumes.  The  latter  is  much  the  fullest  of  all  the  editions 
in  matter,  giving  Poe's  criticism  its  due  place,  and  is  the  most  authentic  in  text. 
It  contains  a  memoir  by  Professor  Harrison  and  a  volume  of  Poe's  correspon 
dence,  both  of  which  have  been  published  separately.  The  latest  study  of  Poe 
is  by  a  Frenchman,  Professor  Emile  Lauvriere  (1904).  There  are  several  vol 
umes  of  selections  for  school  and  college  use;  among  these  the  two  volumes  ed- 


A   BURST  OF  MELODY  21$ 

ited  by  Sherwin  Cody  will  be  found  specially  useful.  The  present  editor  has 
annotated  select  poems  and  tales  in  Nos.  119  and  120  of  "The  Riverside 
Literature  Series."] 

A   BURST   OF   MELODY1 

[THE  TEXT  OF  ALL  THE  SELECTIONS  FROM  POE  is  THAT  OF  THE  "VIRGINIA 
EDITION,"  BY  THE  KIND  PERMISSION  OF  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  Co.] 

LIGEIA  !  Ligeia ! 

My  beautiful  one  ! 
Whose  harshest  idea 

Will  to  melody  run, 
O  !  is  it  thy  will 

On  the  breezes  to  toss? 
Or,  capriciously  still, 

Like  the  lone  Albatross,2 
Incumbent  on  night 

(As  she  on  the  air) 
To  keep  watch  with  delight 

On  the  harmony  there? 
Ligeia  !  wherever 

Thy  image  may  be, 
No  magic  shall  sever 

Thy  music  from  thee. 


SONNET  — TO   SCIENCE3 

SCIENCE  !  true  daughter  of  Old  Time  thou  art ! 
Who  alterest  all  things  with  thy  peering  eyes. 

1  Taken  from  "  Al  Aaraaf"  (text  of  1845),  which  first  appeared  in  1829.     Poe 
tells  us  that  he  imitated  the  rhythm  of  one  of  Claud  Halcro's  songs  in  Scott's 
"  Pirate." 

2  The  Albatross  is  said  to  sleep  on  the  wing  (Poe's  note). 

8  First  published  in  the  volume  of  1829,  the  text  was  subject  to  some  modifications. 
The  rhyme  scheme  of  the  sonnet  is  irregular.  If  the  fifth  and  seventh  lines  did  not 
rhyme  with  the  second  and  fourth,  it  would  be  a  good  example  of  what  is  known  as 
the  Shakespearian  form  of  sonnet. 


214  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

Why  preyest  them  thus  upon  the  poet's  heart, 

Vulture,  whose  wings  are  dull  realities  ? 
How  should  he  love  thee  ?  or  how  deem  thee  wise, 

Who  wouldst  not  leave  him  in  his  wandering 
To  seek  for  treasure  in  the  jeweled  skies, 

Albeit  he  soared  with  an  undaunted  wing? 
Hast  thou  not  dragged  Diana  from  her  car? 

And  driven  the  Hamadryad  from  the  wood 
To  seek  a  shelter  in  some  happier  star? 

Hast  thou  not  torn  the  Naiad  from  her  flood, 
The  Elfin  from  the  green  grass,  and  from  me 
The  summer  dream  beneath  the  tamarind  tree  ? 


TO   HELEN1 

HELEN,  thy  beauty  is  to  me 

Like  those  Nice" an2  barks  of  yore, 
That  gently,  o'er  a  perfumed  sea, 

The  weary,  wayworn  wanderer  bore 

To  his  own  native  shore. 

On  desperate  seas  long  wont  to  roam, 
Thy  hyacinth  hair,  thy  classic  face, 

1  First  published  in  "  Poems,"  1831.     Subsequently  altered  and  improved.    It  is 
one  of  Poe's  earliest  poems. 

2  In  the  editor's  Riverside  selections  from  Poe  the  suggestion  is  made  that  as 
Nicean  is  apparently  inexplicable,  perhaps  Phceacian  is  meant,  as  the  Phaeacians 
conveyed  Ulysses  to  Ithaca  (cf.  11.  4-5,  and  "Odyssey,"  VI-VIII).    It  does  not 
follow,  however,  from  the  adoption  of  this   suggestion,  that  "  Helen "  stands  for 
Helen  of  Troy,  nor  does  it  follow  from  Poe's  statement  that  "  Helen  "  was  Mrs. 
Jane  Stith  Stanard,  a  Richmond  lady  who  was  kind  to  him  in  his  boyhood,  that 
the  poem  was  really  inspired  by  that  lady.      It  may  be  remarked  that  Nicean  is 
explained  by  Professor  Kent  to  refer  to  the  ships  of  Alexander  the  Great,  so  named 
from  the  place  of  their  construction,  Nicaea,  a  town  in  India  which  he  founded  on 
the  Hydaspes.    Yet  Alexander  does  not  suit  line  4  as  Ulysses  does,  and  he  did  not 
return  to  his  own  shore ;  nor,  granting  that  Poe  remembered  this  special  Nicaea, 
does  it  seenv likely  that  a  river  town  would  have  brought  to  his  mind  "  a  perfumed 
sea."     Probably  the  matter  must  still  be  regarded  as  shrouded  in  mystery,  and 
probably  Poe  would  have  smiled   could  he  have  known  how  much  speculation 
would  centre  around  a  word  which  he  may  have  chosen  simply  because  it  suited 
his  ear. 


ISRAFEL  215 

Thy  Naiad  airs  have  brought  me  home 

To  the  glory  that  was  Greece, 
And  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome. 

Lo  !  in  yon  brilliant  window-niche 

How  statue-like  I  see  thee  stand, 

The  agate  lamp  within  thy  hand  ! 
Ah,  Psyche,  from  the  regions  which 

Are  Holy- Land  ! 


ISRAFEL1 

IN  Heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 

"  Whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute  ; " 

None  sing  so  wildly  well 

As  the  angel  Israfel, 

And  the  giddy  stars  (so  legends  tell) 

Ceasing  their  hymns,  attend  the  spell 
Of  his  voice,  all  mute. 

Tottering  above 

In  her  highest  noon, 

The  enamored  moon 
Blushes  with  love, 

While,  to  listen,  the  red  levin 

(With  the  rapid  Pleiads,  even, 

Which  were  seven,)2 

Pauses  in  Heaven. 

And  they  say  (the  starry  choir 

And  the  other  listening  things) 
That  Israfeli's  fire 
Is  owing  to  that  lyre 

1  First  published  in  "  Poems,"  1831.    Subsequently  altered  and  improved. 
2 See  Simms's  poem,  "  The  Lost  Pleiad,"  p.  178. 


2l6  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

By  which  he  sits  and  sings  — 
The  trembling  living  wire 
Of  those  unusual  strings. 

But  the  skies  that  angel  trod, 
Where  deep  thoughts  are  a  duty  — 
Where  Love's  a  grown-up  God  — 

Where  the  Houri  glances  are 
Imbued  with  all  the  beauty 

Which  we  worship  in  a  star. 

Therefore,  thou  art  not  wrong, 

Israfeli,  who  despisest 
An  unimpassioned  song ; 
To  thee  the  laurels  belong, 

Best  bard,  because  the  wisest ! 
Merrily  live,  and  long  ! 

The  ecstasies  above 

With  thy  burning  measures  suit  — 

Thy  grief,  thy  joy,  thy  hate,  thy  love, 
With  the  fervor  of  thy  lute  — 
Well  may  the  stars  be  mute  ! 

Yes,  Heaven  is  thine ;  but  this 
Is  a  world  of  sweets  and  sours ; 
Our  flowers  are  merely  —  flowers, 

And  the  shadow  of  thy  perfect  bliss 
Is  the  sunshine  of  ours. 

If  I  could  dwell 
Where  Israfel 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 
He  might  not  sing  so  wildly  well 

A  mortal  melody, 
While  a  bolder  note  than  this  might  swell 

From  my  lyre  within  the  sky. 


TO   ONE  IN  PARADISE 


TO   ONE   IN  PARADISE1 

THOU  wast  all  that  to  me,  love, 

For  which  my  soul  did  pine  — 
A  green  isle  in  the  sea,  love, 

A  fountain  and  a  shrine, 
All  wreathed  with  fairy  fruits  and  flowers, 

And  all  the  flowers  were  mine. 

Ah,  dream  too  bright  to  last ! 

Ah,  starry  Hope  !  that  didst  arise 
But  to  be  overcast ! 

A  voice  from  out  the  Future  cries, 
"  On  !  on  !  "—  but  o'er  the  Past 

(Dim  gulf !)  my  spirit  hovering  lies 
Mute,  motionless,  aghast. 

For,  alas  !  alas  !  with  me 

The  light  of  Life  is  o'er  ! 

"  No  more  —  no  more  —  no  more  "  — 
(Such  language  holds  the  solemn  sea 

To  the  sands  upon  the  shore) 
Shall  bloom  the  thunder-blasted  tree, 

Or  the  stricken  eagle  soar  ! 

And  all  my  days  are  trances, 

And  all  my  nightly  dreams 
Are  where  thy  grey  eye  glances, 

And  where  thy  footstep  gleams  — 
In  what  ethereal  dances, 

By  what  eternal  streams.2 

1  Inserted  in  "The  Visionary"  (now  "The  Assignation"),  first  published  in 
Godey's  Lady's  Book,  January,  1834. 

2  There  is  an  added  stanza  in  the  version  now  printed  in  "  The  Assignation," 
but  it  does  not  help  the  poem. 


218  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 


AT   SCHOOL  IN   ENGLAND 1 

LET  me  call  myself,  for  the  present,  William  Wilson.  The  fair 
page  now  lying  before  me  need  not  be  sullied  with  my  real  appel 
lation.  This  has  been  already  too  much  an  object  for  the  scorn  — 
for  the  horror  —  for  the  detestation  of  my  race.  To  the  uttermost 
regions  of  the  globe  have  not  the  indignant  winds  bruited  its 
unparalleled  infamy?  Oh,  outcast  of  all  outcasts  most  abandoned  ! 
—  to  the  earth  art  thou  not  forever  dead?  to  its  honors,  to  its 
flowers,  to  its  golden  aspirations  ?  —  and  a  cloud,  dense,  dismal, 
and  limitless,  does  it  not  hang  eternally  between  thy  hopes  and 
heaven  ? 

I  would  not,  if  I  could,  here  or  to-day,  embody  a  record  of  my 
later  years  of  unspeakable  misery  and  unpardonable  crime.  This 
epoch  —  these  later  years  —  took  upon  themselves  a  sudden  eleva 
tion  in  turpitude,  whose  origin  alone  it  is  my  present  purpose  to 
assign.  Men  usually  grow  base  by  degrees.  From  me,  in  an  in 
stant,  all  virtue  dropped  bodily  as  a  mantle.  From  comparatively 
trivial  wickedness  I  passed,  with  the  stride  of  a  giant,  into  more 
than  the  enormities  of  an  Elah-gabalus.2  What  chance  —  what  one 
event  brought  this  evil  thing  to  pass,  bear  with  me  while  I  relate. 
Death  approaches  ;  and  the  shadow  which  foreruns  him  has  thrown 
a  softening  influence  over  my  spirit.  I  long,  in  passing  through 
the  dim  valley,  for  the  sympathy  —  I  had  nearly  said  for  the  pity  — 
of  my  fellowmen.  I  would  fain  have  them  believe  that  I  have 
been,  in  some  measure,  the  slave  of  circumstances  beyond  human 
control.  I  would  wish  them  to  seek  out  for  me,  in  the  details  I  am 
about  to  give,  some  little  oasis  of  fatality  amid  a  wilderness  of 
error.  I  would  have  them  allow  —  what  they  cannot  refrain  from 

1  From  "  William  Wilson,"  a  tale  first  published  in  Burton's  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zinefor  October,  1839,  one  month  after  the  appearance  of  "  The  Fall  of  the  House  of 
Usher  "  in  the  same  periodical.    Critics  agree  in  seeing  in  the  story  many  autobio 
graphical  details  of  Poe's  schooldays  in  England  and  of  his  unique  personality. 
It  represents  excellently,  not  only  Poe's  "  Tales  of  Conscience,"  but  his  remarkable 
powers  of  description. 

2  Also  Heliogabalus,  a  Roman  emperor  noted  for  his  cruelties  and  debauchery, 
murdered  in  222  A.D.,  after  a  reign  of  four  years. 


AT  SCHOOL  IN  ENGLAND  2IQ 

allowing  —  that,  although  temptation  may  have  erewhile  existed  as 
great,  man  was  never  thus  at  least  tempted  before  —  certainly,  never 
thus  fell.  And  is  it  therefore  that  he  has  never  thus  suffered? 
Have  I  not  indeed  been  living  in  a  dream  ?  And  am  I  not  now 
dying  a  victim  to  the  horror  and  the  mystery  of  the  wildest  of  all 
sublunary  visions? 

I  am  a  descendant  of  a  race  whose  imaginative  and  easily  excit 
able  temperament  has  at  all  times  rendered  them  remarkable  ;  and, 
in  my  earliest  infancy,  I  gave  evidence  of  having  fully  inherited  the 
family  character.  As  I  advanced  in  years  it  was  more  strongly 
developed  ;  becoming  for  many  reasons  a  cause  of  serious  disquie 
tude  to  my  friends,  and  of  positive  injury  to  myself.  I  grew  self- 
willed,  addicted  to  the  wildest  caprices,  and  a  prey  to  the  most 
ungovernable  passions.  Weak-minded,  and  beset  with  constitu 
tional  infirmities  akin  to  my  own,  my  parents  could  do  but  little 
to  check  the  evil  propensities  which  distinguished  me.  Some' 
feeble  and  ill-directed  efforts  resulted  in  complete  failure  on  their 
part,  and,  of  course,  in  total  triumph  on  mine.  Thenceforward  my 
voice  was  a  household  law,  and  at  an  age  when  few  children  have 
abandoned  their  leading-strings,  I  was  left  to  the  guidance  of  my 
own  will,  and  became  in  all  but  name  the  master  of  my  own 
actions. 

My  earliest  recollections  of  a  school-life,  are  connected  with  a 
large,  rambling,  Elizabethan  house,  in  a  misty-looking  village  of 
England,1  where  were  a  vast  number  of  gigantic  and  gnarled  trees, 
and  where  all  the  houses  were  excessively  ancient.  In  truth,  it  was 
a  dream-like  and  spirit-soothing  place,  that  venerable  old  town.  At 
this  moment,  in  fancy,  I  feel  the  refreshing  chilliness  of  its  deeply- 
shadowed  avenues,  inhale  the  fragrance  of  its  thousand  shrubberies, 
and  thrill  anew  with  indefinable  delight,  at  the  deep  hollow  note  of 
the  church-bell,  breaking,  each  hour,  with  sullen  and  sudden  roar, 
upon  the  stillness  of  the  dusky  atmosphere  in  which  the  fretted 
Gothic  steeple  lay  imbedded  and  asleep. 

It  gives  me,  perhaps,  as  much  of  pleasure  as  I  can  now  in  any 
manner  experience,  to  dwell  upon  minute  recollections  of  the  school 
and  its  concerns.  Steeped  in  misery  as  I  am  —  misery,  alas  !  only 

1  Stoke-Newington. 


220  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

too  real  —  I  shall  be  pardoned  for  seeking  relief,  however  slight 
and  temporary,  in  the  weakness  of  a  few  rambling  details.  These, 
moreover,  utterly  trivial,  and  even  ridiculous  in  themselves,  assume, 
to  my  fancy,  adventitious  importance,  as  connected  with  a  period 
and  a  locality  when  and  where  I  recognize  the  first  ambiguous 
monitions  of  the  destiny  which  afterwards  so  fully  overshadowed 
me.  Let  me  then  remember. 

The  house,  I  have  said,  was  old  and  irregular.  The  grounds 
were  extensive,  and  a  high  and  solid  brick  wall,  topped  with  a 
bed  of  mortar  and  broken  glass,  encompassed  the  whole.  This 
prison-like  rampart  formed  the  limit  of  our  domain ;  beyond  it 
we  saw  but  thrice  a  week,  once  every  Saturday  afternoon,  when, 
attended  by  two  ushers,  we  were  permitted  to  take  brief  walks  in 
a  body  through  some  of  the  neighboring  fields  —  and  twice  during 
Sunday,  when  we  were  paraded  in  the  same  formal  manner  to  the 
morning  and  evening  service  in  the  one  church  of  the  village.  Of 
this  church  the  principal  of  our  school  was  pastor.  With  how  deep 
a  spirit  of  wonder  and  perplexity  was  I  wont  to  regard  him  from 
our  remote  pew  in  the  gallery,  as,  with  step  solemn  and  slow,  he 
ascended  the  pulpit !  This  reverend  man,  with  countenance  so 
demurely  benign,  with  robes  so  glossy  and  so  clerically  flowing, 
with  wig  so  minutely  powdered,  so  rigid  and  so  vast,  —  could  this 
be  he  who,  of  late,  with  sour  visage,  and  in  snuffy  habiliments, 
administered,  ferule  in  hand,  the  Draconian  laws  of  the  academy  ? 
Oh,  gigantic  paradox,  too  utterly  monstrous  for  solution  ! 

At  an  angle  of  the  ponderous  wall  frowned  a  more  ponderous 
gate.  It  was  riveted  and  studded  with  iron  bolts,  and  surmounted 
with  jagged  iron  pikes.  What  impressions  of  deep  awe  did  it  in 
spire  !  It  was  never  opened  save  for  the  three  periodical  egressions 
and  ingressions  already  mentioned ;  then,  in  every  creak  of  its 
mighty  hinges,  we  found  a  plenitude  of  mystery  —  a  world  of  matter 
for  solemn  remark,  or  for  more  solemn  meditation. 

The  extensive  enclosure  was  irregular  in  form,  having  many 
capacious  recesses.  Of  these,  three  or  four  of  the  largest  consti 
tuted  the  playground.  It  was  level,  and  covered  with  fine  hard 
gravel.  I  well  remember  it  had  no  trees,  nor  benches,  nor  anything 
similar  within  it.  Of  course  it  was  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  In 


AT  SCHOOL  IN  ENGLAND  221 

front  lay  a  small  parterre,  planted  with  box  and  other  shrubs ;  but 
through  this  sacred  division  we  passed  only  upon  rare  occasions 
indeed,  such  as  a  first  advent  to  school  or  final  departure  thence,  or 
perhaps,  when  a  parent  or  friend  having  called  for  us,  we  joyfully 
took  our  way  home  for  the  Christmas  or  midsummer  holidays. 

But  the  house  !  —  how  quaint  an  old  building  was  this  !  —  to  me 
how  veritably  a  palace  of  enchantment !  There  was  really  no  end 
to  its  windings  —  to  its  incomprehensible  subdivisions.  It  was  dif 
ficult,  at  any  given  time,  to  say  with  certainty  upon  which  of  its 
two  stories  one  happened  to  be.  From  each  room  to  every  other 
there  were  sure  to  be  found  three  or  four  steps  either  in  ascent  or 
descent.  Then  the  lateral  branches  were  innumerable  —  inconceiv 
able  —  and  so  returning  in  upon  themselves,  that  our  most  exact 
ideas  in  regard  to  the  whole  mansion  were  not  very  far  different 
from  those  with  which  we  pondered  upon  infinity.  During  the  five 
years l  of  my  residence  here,  I  was  never  able  to  ascertain  with 
precision,  in  what  remote  locality  lay  the  little  sleeping  apartment 
assigned  to  myself  and  some  eighteen  or  twenty  other  scholars. 

The  schoolroom  was  the  largest  in  the  house  —  I  could  not  help 
thinking,  in  the  world.  It  was  very  long,  narrow,  and  dismally 
low,  with  pointed  Gothic  windows  and  a  ceiling  of  oak.  In  a  re 
mote  and  terror-inspiring  angle  was  a  square  enclosure  of  eight  or 
ten  feet,  comprising  the  sanctum,  "  during  hours,"  of  our  principal, 
the  Reverend  Dr.  Bransby.2  It  was  a  solid  structure,  with  massy 
door,  sooner  than  open  which  in  the  absence  of  the  "  Dominie," 
we  would  all  have  willingly  perished  by  the  peine  forte  et  (lure?  In 
other  angles  were  two  other  similar  boxes,  far  less  reverenced,  in 
deed,  but  still  greatly  matters  of  awe.  One  of  these  was  the  pul 
pit  of  the  "  classical "  usher,  one  of  the  "English  and  mathematical." 
Interspersed  about  the  room,  crossing  and  recrossing  in  endless 
irregularity,  were  innumerable  benches  and  desks,  black,  ancient, 
and  time-worn,  piled  desperately  with  much-bethumbed  books,  and 

1  Poe  was  in  England  from  1815  to  1820. 

2  Dr.  John  Bransby  was  actually  the  headmaster  of  the  Manor  House  School 
where  Poe  studied. 

3  French  for  "  heavy  and  harsh  pain."    Technically,  the  barbarous  punishment 
of  applying  heavy  weights  to  a  man  who   stood  mute  when  indicted  for  felony, 
and  crushing  him  until  he  pleaded  or  died. 


222  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

so  beseamed  with  initial  letters,  names  at  full  length,  grotesque 
figures,  and  other  multiplied  efforts  of  the  knife,  as  to  have  entirely 
lost  what  little  of  original  form  might  have  been  their  portion  in 
days  of  long  departed.  A  huge  bucket  with  water  stood  atone 
extremity  of  the  room,  and  a  clock  of  stupendous  dimensions  at  the 
other. 

Encompassed  by  the  massy  walls  of  this  venerable  academy,  I 
passed,  yet  not  in  tedium  or  disgust,  the  years  of  the  third  lus 
trum  of  my  life.  The  teeming  brain  of  childhood  requires  no 
external  world  of  incident  to  occupy  or  amuse  it ;  and  the  ap 
parently  dismal  monotony  of  a  school  was  replete  with  more 
intense  excitement  than  my  riper  youth  has  derived  from  luxury, 
or  my  full  manhood  from  crime.  Yet  I  must  believe  that  my  first 
mental  development  had  in  it  much  of  the  uncommon  —  even 
much  of  the  outre}  Upon  mankind  at  large  the  events  of  very 
early  existence  rarely  leave  in  mature  age  any  definite  impression. 
All  is  gray  shadow  —  a  weak  and  irregular  remembrance  —  an  in 
distinct  regathering  of  feeble  pleasures  and  phantasmagoric  pains. 
With  me  this  is  not  so.  In  childhood  I  must  have  felt  with  the 
energy  of  a  man  what  I  now  find  stamped  upon  memory  in  lines 
as  vivid,  as  deep,  and  as  durable  as  the  exergues 2  of  the  Cartha 
ginian  medals. 

Yet  in  fact  —  in  the  fact  of  the  world's  view  —  how  little  was 
there  to  remember  !  The  morning's  awakening,  the  nightly  sum 
mons  to  bed ;  the  connings,  the  recitations ;  the  periodical  half- 
holidays,  and  perambulations ;  the  playground,  with  its  broils,  its 
pastimes,  its  intrigues  ;  —  these,  by  a  mental  sorcery  long  forgotten, 
were  made  to  involve  a  wilderness  of  sensation,  a  world  of  rich  in 
cident,  an  universe  of  varied  emotion,  of  excitement  the  most  pas 
sionate  and  spirit-stirring.  "  Oh,  le  bon  temps,  que  ce  siecle  de 
fer?"* 

1  French  for  "  exaggerated,"  "  extraordinary." 

2  The  exergue  is  that  part  of  the  reverse  of  a  coin  or  medal  which  is  below  the 
main  device  ("  type  "),  and  distinctly  separated  from  it,  generally  by  a  line. —  Cen 
tury  Dictionary. 

8  French  for  "  Oh,  what  a  good  time  was  that  age  of  iron,"  Le.  that  primitive  and 
unluxurious  period  of  life. 


THE   CONQUEROR    WORM  22$ 


THE  CONQUEROR  WORM1 

Lo  !  'tis  a  gala  night 

Within  the  lonesome  latter  years  ! 
An  angel  throng,  bewinged,  bedight 

In  veils,  and  drowned  in  tears, 
Sit  in  a  theatre,  to  see 

A  play  of  hopes  and  fears, 
While  the  orchestra  breathes  fitfully 

The  music  of  the  spheres. 

Mimes,2  in  the  form  of  God  on  high, 

Mutter  and  mumble  low, 
And  hither  and  thither  fly  — 

Mere  puppets  they,  who  come  and  go 
•At  bidding  of  vast  formless  things 

That  shift  the  scenery  to  and  fro, 
Flapping  from  out  their  condor  wings 

Invisible  Wo. 

That  motley  drama  —  oh,  be  sure 

It  shall  not  be  forgot ! 
With  its  Phantom,  chased  for  evermore, 

By  a  crowd  that  seize  it  not, 
Through  a  circle  that  ever  returneth  in 

To  the  self-same  spot ; 
And  much  of  Madness,  and  more  of  Sin, 

And  Horror  the  soul  of  the  plot. 

But  see,  amid  the  mimic  rout 

A  crawling  shape  intrude  ! 
A  blood-red  thing  that  writhes  from  out 

The  scenic  solitude  ! 

1  First  published  in  Graham's  Magazine,  January,   1843.    Now  included  in 
Ligeia." 

2  Actors,  *>.  men. 


224  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

It  writhes  —  it  writhes  !  —  with  mortal  pangs 
The  mimes  become  its  food, 

And  seraphs  sob  at  vermin  fangs 
In  human  gore  imbued. 

Out  —  out  are  the  lights  —  out  all ! 

And,  over  each  quivering  form, 
The  curtain,  a  funeral  pall, 

Comes  down  with  the  rush  of  a  storm, 
While  the  angels,  all  pallid  and  wan, 

Uprising,  unveiling,  affirm 
That  the  play  is  the  tragedy,  "  Man," 

And  its  hero,  the  Conqueror  Worm. 


THE   CITY   IN   THE   SEA1 

Lo  !  Death  has  reared  himself  a  throne 

In  a  strange  city  lying  alone 

Far  down  within  the  dim  West, 

Where  the  good  and  the  bad  and  the  worst  and  the  best 

Have  gone  to  their  eternal  rest. 

There  shrines  and  palaces  and  towers 

(Time-eaten  towers  that  tremble  not !) 

Resemble  nothing  that  is  ours. 

Around,  by  lifting  winds  forgot, 

Resignedly  beneath  the  sky 

The  melancholy  waters  lie. 

No  rays  from  the  holy  heaven  come  down 
On  the  long  night-time  of  that  town ; 
But  light  from  out  the  lurid  sea 
Streams  up  the  turrets  silently  — 
Gleams  up  the  pinnacles  far  and  free  — 

1  Published  in  The  American  [  Whig\  Review,  April,  1845 ;  the  earliest  version 
dates,  however,  from  the  "  Poems  "  of  1831,  where  it  was  called  "  The  Doomed 
City."  , 


THE    CITY  IN  THE  SEA  22$ 

Up  domes  —  up  spires  —  up  kingly  halls  — 
Up  fanes  —  up  Babylon-like  walls,  — l 
Up  shadowy  long-forgotten  bowers 
Of  sculptured  ivy  and  stone  flowers  — 
Up  many  and  many  a  marvellous  shrine 
Whose  wreathed  friezes  intertwine 
The  viol,2  the  violet,  and  the  vine. 

Resignedly  beneath  the  sky 

The  melancholy  waters  lie. 

So  blend  the  turrets  and  shadows  there 

That  all  seem  pendulous  in  air, 

While  from  a  proud  tower  in  the  town 

Death  looks  gigantically  down. 

There  open  fanes  and  gaping  graves 
Yawn  level  with  the  luminous  waves ; 
But  not  the  riches  there  that  lie 
In  each  idol's  diamond  eye  — 
Not  the  gay ly -jewelled  dead, 
Tempt  the  waters  from  their  bed ; 
For  no  ripples  curl,  alas  ! 
Along  that  wilderness  of  glass  — 
No  swellings  tell  that  winds  may  be 
Upon  some  far-off  happier  sea  — 
No  heavings  hint  that  winds  have  been 
On  seas  less  hideously  serene  ! 

But  lo,  a  stir  is  in  the  air  ! 

The  wave  —  there  is  a  movement  there  ! 

As  if  the  towers  had  thrust  aside, 

1  Perhaps,  as  Professor  Weber  thinks,  this  phrase  is  equivalent  to  "  doomed  to 
fall."    But  the  town  is  to  "  settle  "  down,  and  perhaps  all  Poe  wished  to  do  was  to 
recall  some  old  city  famous  for  its  walls.    Professor  Kent  thinks  that  the  size  of  the 
walls  of  Babylon  was  in  Poe's  mind. 

2  Explained  by  Professor  Weber  as  "  for  '  viola,"  the  genus  of  which  the  violet  is 
a  species."     But  would  Poe  immediately  have  mentioned  the  violet  ?    Professor 
Kent  takes  it  to  mean  a  stringed  musical  instrument,  which  seems  preferable.    The 
line  stood  originally,  "  The  mask — the  viol  —  and  the  vine." 

Q 


226  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

In  slightly  sinking,  the  dull  tide  — 
As'if  their  tops  had  feebly  given 
A  void  within  the  filmy  Heaven. 
The  waves  have  now  a  redder  glow  — 
The  hours  are  breathing  faint  and  low  — 
And  when,  amid  no  earthly  moans, 
Down,  down  that  town  shall  settle  hence, 
Hell,  rising  from  a  thousand  thrones, 
Shall  do  it  reverence. 


THE   RAVEN1 

ONCE  upon  a  midnight  dreary,  while  I  pondered,  weak  and  weary, 
Over  many  a  quaint  and  curious  volume  of  forgotten  lore  — 
While  I  nodded,  nearly  napping,  suddenly  there  came  a  tapping, 
As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber  door. 
"  Tis  some  visitor,"  I  muttered,  "tapping  at  my  chamber  door  — 
Only  this  and  nothing  more." 

Ah,  distinctly  I  remember  it  was  in  the  bleak  December ; 
And  each  separate  dying  ember  wrought  its  ghost  upon  the  floor. 
Eagerly  I  wished  the  morrow ;  —  vainly  I  had  sought  to  borrow 
From  my  books  surcease  of  sorrow  —  sorrow  for  the  lost  Lenore  — 
For  the  rare  and  radiant  maiden  whom  the  angels  name  Lenore  — 
Nameless  here  for  evermore. 

And  the  silken,  sad,  uncertain  rustling  of  each  purple  curtain 
Thrilled  me  —  filled  me  with  fantastic  terrors  never  felt  before  ; 
So  that  now,  to  still  the  beating  of  my  heart,  I  stood  repeating 
"  'Tis  some  visitor  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber  door  — 
Some  late  visitor  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber  door ; 
This  it  is  and  nothing  more." 

Presently  my  soul  grew  stronger ;  hesitating  then  no  longer, 
"Sir,"  said  I,  "or  Madam,  truly  your  forgiveness  I  implore ; 

• !  First  printed  in    The  Evening  Mirror,  January  29,  1845,  and  The  American 
\Whig\  Review,  February,  1845. 


THE  RAVEN  22/ 

But  the  fact  is  I  was  napping,  and  so  gently  you  came  rapping, 
And  so  faintly  you  came  tapping,  tapping  at  my  chamber  door, 
That  I  scarce  was  sure  I  heard  you" — here  I  opened  wide  the 
door ; — 

Darkness  there  and  nothing  more. 

Deep  into  that  darkness  peering,  long  I  stood  there  wondering, 

fearing, 

Doubting,  dreaming  dreams  no  mortal  ever  dared  to  dream  before  ; 
But  the  silence  was  unbroken,  and  the  stillness  gave  no  token, 
And  the  only  word  there  spoken  was  the  whispered  word, "  Lenore  ! " 
This  I  whispered,  and  an  echo  murmured  back  the  word,  "  Lenore  ! " 
Merely  this  and  nothing  more. 

Back  into  the  chamber  turning,  all  my  soul  within  me  burning, 
Soon  again  I  heard  a  tapping  somewhat  louder  than  before. 
"Surely,"  said  I,  "surely  that  is  something  at  my  window  lattice; 
Let  me  see,  then,  what  thereat  is,  and  this  mystery  explore  — 
Let  my  heart  be  still  a  moment  and  this  mystery  explore ;  — 
'Tis  the  wind  and  nothing  more." 

Open  here  I  flung  the  shutter,  when,  with  many  a  flirt  and  flutter, 

In  there  stepped  a  stately  Raven  of  the  saintly  days  of  yore. 

Not  the  least  obeisance  made  he ;  not  a  minute  stopped  or  stayed 

he; 
But,   with   mien  of  lord   or  lady,  perched   above   my  chamber 

door  — 

Perched  upon  a  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber  door  — 
Perched,  and  sat,  and  nothing  more. 

Then  this  ebony  bird  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling, 

By  the  grave  and  stern  decorum  of  the  countenance  it  wore, 

"  Though  thy  crest  be  shorn  and  shaven,  thou,"  I  said,  "  art  sure 

no  craven, 
Ghastly  grim   and   ancient  Raven  wandering  from  the  Nightly 

shore  — 

Tell  me  what  thy  lordly  name  is  on  the  Night's  Plutonian  shore  ! " 
Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 


228  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

Much  I  marvelled  this  ungainly  fowl  to  hear  discourse  so  plainly, 
Though  its  answer  little  meaning  —  little  relevancy  bore  ; 
For  we  cannot  help  agreeing  that  no  living  human  being 
Ever  yet  was  blessed  with  seeing  bird  above  his  chamber  door  — 
Bird  or  beast  upon  the  sculptured  bust  above  his  chamber  door, 
With  such  name  as  "  Nevermore." 

But  the  Raven,  sitting  lonely  on  the  placid  bust,  spoke  only 
That  one  word,  as  if  his  soul  in  that  one  word  he  did  outpour, 
Nothing  further  then  he  uttered  —  not  a  feather  then  he  fluttered  — 
Till  I  scarcely  more  than  muttered,1  —  "  Other  friends  have  flown 

before  — 

On  the  morrow  he  will  leave  me,  as  my  Hopes  have  flown  before." 
Then  the  bird  said,2  "  Nevermore." 

Startled  at  the  stillness  broken  by  reply  so  aptly  spoken, 
"Doubtless,"  said  I,  "what  it  utters  is  its  only  stock  and  store, 
Caught  from  some  unhappy  master  whom  unmerciful  Disaster 
Followed  fast  and  followed  faster  till  his  songs  one  burden  bore  — 
Till  the  dirges  of  his  Hope  that  melancholy  burden  bore 
Of '  Never  —  nevermore.' " 

But  the  Raven  still  beguiling  all  my  fancy  into  smiling, 

Straight  I  wheeled  a  cushioned  seat  in  front  of  bird,  and  bust  and 

door ; 

Then,  upon  the  velvet  sinking,  I  betook  myself  to'  linking 
Fancy  unto  fancy,  thinking  what  this  ominous  bird  of  yore  — 
What  this  grim,  ungainly,  ghastly,  gaunt,  and  ominous  bird  of  yore 
Meant  in  croaking  "  Nevermore." 

This  I  sat  engaged  in  guessing,  but  no  syllable  expressing 
To  the  fowl  whose  fiery  eyes  now  burned  into  my  bosom's  core ; 
This  and  more  I  sat  divining,  with  my  head  at  ease  reclining 
On  the  cushion's  velvet  lining  that  the  lamp-light  gloated  o'er, 
But  whose  velvet  violet  lining  with  the  lamp-light  gloating  o'er, 
She  shall  press,  ah,  nevermore  ! 

1  There  is  no  punctuation  here  in  the  "  Virginia  Edition." 

2  Here,  and  in  similar  places  below,  a  comma  has  been  inserted. 


THE  RAVEN  22Q 

Then,  methought,  the  air  grew  denser,  perfumed  from  an  unseen 

censer 

Swung  by  seraphim  whose  foot-falls  tinkled  on  the  tufted  floor. 
"Wretch,"  I  cried,  "thy  God  hath  lent  thee  —  by  these  angels  he 

hath  sent  thee 

Respite  —  respite  and  nepenthe1  from  thy  memories  of  Lenore ; 
Quaff,  oh  quaff  this  kind  nepenthe  and  forget  this  lost  Lenore  !  " 
Quoth  the  Raven,  "Nevermore." 

"  Prophet ! "  said  I,   "  thing  of  evil !    prophet  still,   if  bird  or 

devil !  — 

Whether  Tempter  sent,  or  whether  tempest  tossed  thee  here  ashore, 
Desolate  yet  all  undaunted,  on  this  desert  land  enchanted  — 
On  this  home  by  Horror  haunted  —  tell  me  truly,  I  implore  — 
Is  there  —  is  there  balm  in  Gilead  ?  —  tell  me —  tell  me,  I  implore  ! " 
Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 

"  Prophet !  "  said  I,  "  thing  of  evil !  —  prophet  still,  if  bird  or 

devil ! 
By  that  Heaven  that  bends  above  us  —  by  that  God  we  both 

adore  — 

Tell  this  soul  with  sorrow  laden  if,  within  the  distant  Aidenn,2 
It  shall  clasp  a  sainted  maiden  whom  the  angels  name  Lenore  — 
Clasp  a  rare  and  radiant  maiden  whom  the  angels  name  Lenore  !  " 
Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 

"  Be  that  word  our  sign  of  parting,  bird  or  fiend  !  "  I  shrieked,  up 
starting — 

"  Get  thee  back  into  the  tempest  and  the  Night's  Plutonian  shore  ! 

Leave  no  black  plume  as  a  token  of  that  lie  thy  soul  hath  spoken  ! 

Leave  my  loneliness  unbroken  !  —  quit  the  bust  above  my  door  ! 

Take  thy  beak  from  out  my  heart,  and  take  thy  form  from  off  my 
door !  " 

Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 

1  A  drink  causing  forgetfulness,  mentioned  by  Homer. 

2  Eden. 


230  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

And  the  Raven,  never  flitting,  still  is  sitting,  still  is  sitting 
On  the  pallid  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber  door ; 
And  his  eyes  have  all  the  seeming  of  a  demon's  that  is  dreaming, 
And  the  lamp-light  o'er  him  streaming  throws  his  shadow  on  the 

floor; 

And  my  soul  from  out  that  shadow  that  lies  floating  on  the  floor 
Shall  be  lifted  —  nevermore  ! 


THE  CASK   OF  AMONTILLADO1 

THE  thousand  injuries  of  Fortunato  I  had  borne  as  I  best  could, 
but  when  he  ventured  upon  insult  I  vowed  revenge.  You,  who  so 
well  know  the  nature  of  my  soul,  will  not  suppose,  however,  that  I 
gave  utterance  to  a  threat.  At  length  I  would  be  avenged ;  this 
was  a  point  definitely  settled  —  but  the  very  definitiveness  with 
which  it  was  resolved  precluded  the  idea  of  risk.  I  must  not 
only  punish  but  punish  with  impunity.  A  wrong  is  unredressed 
when  retribution  overtakes  its  represser.  It  is  equally  unredressed 
when  the  avenger  fails  to  make  himself  felt  as  such  to  him  who  has 
done  the  wrong. 

It  must  be  understood  that  neither  by  word  nor  deed  had  I 
given  Fortunato  cause  to  doubt  my  good  will.  I  continued,  as 
was  my  wont,  to  smile  in  his  face,  and  he  did  not  perceive  that 
my  smile  now  was  at  the  thought  of  his  immolation. 

He  had  a  weak  point — this  Fortunato  —  although  in  other 
regards  he  was  a  man  to  be  respected  and  even  feared.  He 
prided  himself  on  his  connoisseurship  in  wine.  Few  Italians 
have  the  true  virtuoso  spirit.  For  the  most  part  their  enthusiasm 
is  adopted  to  suit  the  time  and  opportunity,  to  practise  impos 
ture  upon  the  British  and  Austrian  millionaires.  In  painting  and 
gemmary,  Fortunato,  like  his  countrymen,  was  a  quack,  but  in 
the  matter  of  old  wines  he  was  sincere.  In  this  respect  I  did  not 
differ  from  him  materially ;  —  I  was  skilful  in  the  Italian  vintages 
myself,  and  bought  largely  whenever  I  could. 

1  First  published  in  Godey's  Lady's  Book,  November,  1846.  Amontillado  (pro- 
nounced  a-mon-til-ya'-do)  is  a  sherry  wine  which  is  light  in  color  and  body  and 
but  slightly  sweet  —  Century  Dictionary. 


THE   CASK  OF  AMONTILLADO  231 

It  was  about  dusk,  one  evening  during  the  supreme  madness  of 
the  carnival  season,  that  I  encountered  my  friend.  He  accosted 
me  with  excessive  warmth,  for  he  had  been  drinking  much.  The 
man  wore  motley.  He  had  on  a  tight-fitting  parti-striped  dress, 
and  his  head  was  surmounted  by  the  conical  cap  and  bells.  I  was 
so  pleased  to  see  him,  that  I  thought  I  should  never  have  done 
wringing  his  hand. 

I  said  to  him  —  "  My  dear  Fortunate,  you  are  luckily  met.  How 
remarkably  well  you  are  looking  to-day  !  But  I  have  received  a 
pipe  of  what  passes  for  Amontillado,  and  I  have  my  doubts." 

"How?"  said  he.  "Amontillado?  A  pipe?  Impossible! 
And  in  the  middle  of  the  carnival ! " 

"  I  have  my  doubts,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  I  was  silly  enough  to  pay 
the  full  Amontillado  price  without  consulting  you  in  the  matter. 
You  were  not  to  be  found,  and  I  was  fearful  of  losing  a  bar 
gain." 

"  Amontillado  ! " 

"  I  have  my  doubts." 

"Amontillado!" 

"  And  I  must  satisfy  them." 

"  Amontillado  ! " 

"  As  you  are  engaged,  I  am  on  my  way  to  Luchresi.*  If  any  one 
has  a  critical  turn,  it  is  he.  He  will  tell  me " 

"  Luchresi  cannot  tell  Amontillado  from  Sherry." 

"  And  yet  some  fools  will  have  it  that  his  taste  is  a  match  for 
your  own." 

"  Come,  let  us  go." 

"Whither?" 

"  To  your  vaults." 

"My  friend,  no ;  I  will  not  impose  upon  your  good  nature.  I 
perceive  you  have  an  engagement.  Luchresi " 

"  I  have  no  engagement ;  —  come." 

"  My  friend,  no.  It  is  not  the  engagement,  but  the  severe  cold 
with  which  I  perceive  you  are  afflicted.  The  vaults  are  insuffer 
ably  damp.  They  are  encrusted  with  nitre." 

"  Let  us  go,  nevertheless.  The  cold  is  merely  nothing.  Amon- 
1  Generally  printed  Luchesi. 


232  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

tillado !  You  have  been  imposed  upon.  And  as  for  Luchresi,  he 
cannot  distinguish  Sherry  from  Amontillado." 

Thus  speaking,  Fortunate  possessed  himself  of  my  arm ;  and 
putting  on  a  mask  of  black  silk  and  drawing  a  roquelaire1 
closely  about  my  person,  I  suffered  him  to  hurry  me  to  my 
palazzo. 

There  were  no  attendants  at  home ;  they  had  absconded  to 
make  merry  in  honor  of  the  time.  I  had  told  them  that  I  should 
not  return  until  the  morning,  and  had  given  them  explicit  orders 
not  to  stir  from  the  house.  These  orders  were  sufficient,  I  well 
knew,  to  insure  their  immediate  disappearance,  one  and  all,  as 
soon  as  my  back  was  turned. 

I  took  from  their  sconces  two  flambeaux,  and  giving  one  to 
Fortunato,  bowed  him  through  several  suites  of  rooms  to  the  arch 
way  that  led  into  the  vaults.  I  passed  down  a  long  and  winding 
staircase,  requesting  him  to  be  cautious  as  he  followed.  We  came 
at  length  to  the  foot  of  the  descent,  and  stood  together  on  the 
damp  ground  of  the  catacombs  of  the  Montresors. 

The  gait  of  my  friend  was  unsteady,  and  the  bells  upon  his  cap 
jingled  as  he  strode. 

"The  pipe,"  said  he. 

"  It  is  farther  on,"  said  I ;  "  but  observe  the  white  web- work 
which  gleams  from  these  cavern  walls." 

He  turned  towards  me,  and  looked  into  my  eyes  with  two  filmy 
orbs  that  distilled  the  rheum  of  intoxication. 

"  Nitre?  "  he  asked,  at  length. 

"  Nitre,"  I  replied.     "  How  long  have  you  had  that  cough  ?  " 

"  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  !  —  ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  !  —  ugh  !  ugh  ! 
ugh  !  —  ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  !  —  ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  !  " 

My  poor  friend  found  it  impossible  to  reply  for  many  minutes. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"  Come,"  I  said,  with  decision,  "  we  will  go  back ;  your  health 
is  precious.  You  are  rich,  respected,  admired,  beloved ;  you  are 
happy,  as  once  I  was.  You  are  a  man  to  be  missed.  For  me  it 

1  More  properly  roquelaure,  a  short  cloak  much  worn  in  the  early  eighteenth 
century  (pronounced  rok'-e-lor).  The  word  was  derived  from  the  name  of  a 
French  nobleman  (see  Century  Dictionary). 


THE    CASK  OF  AMONTILLADO  233 

is  no  matter.  We  will  go  back ;  you  will  be  ill,  and  I  cannot  be 
responsible.  Besides,  there  is  Luchresi " 

"  Enough,"  he  said  ;  "  the  cough  is  a  mere  nothing ;  it  will  not 
kill  me.  I  shall  not  die  of  a  cough." 

"  True  —  true,"  I  replied ;  "  and,  indeed,  I  had  no  intention  of 
alarming  you  unnecessarily  —  but  you  should  use  all  proper  cau 
tion.  A  draught  of  this  Medoc  will  defend  us  from  the  damps." 

Here  I  knocked  off  the  neck  of  a  bottle  which  I  drew  from  a 
long  row  of  its  fellows  that  lay  upon  the  mould. 

"  Drink,"  I  said,  presenting  him  the  wine. 

He  raised  it  to  his  lips  with  a  leer.  He  paused  and  nodded  to 
me  familiarly,  while  his  bells  jingled. 

"  I  drink,"  he  said,  "  to  the  buried  that  repose  around  us." 

"And  I  to  your  long  life." 

He  again  took  my  arm,  and  we  proceeded. 

"  These  vaults,"  he  said,  "  are  extensive." 

"The  Montresors,"  I  replied,  "were  a  great  and  numerous 
family." 

"  I  forget  your  arms." 

"  A  huge  human  foot  d'or,  in  a  field  azure ;  the  foot  crushes  a 
serpent  rampant  whose  fangs  are  imbedded  in  the  heel." 

"And  the  motto?  " 

"  Nemo  me  impune  laces  sit" * 

"  Good  !  "  he  said. 

The  wine  sparkled  in  his  eyes  and  the  bells  jingled.  My  own  fancy 
grew  warm  with  the  Medoc.  We  had  passed  through  long  walls 
of  piled  skeletons,  with  casks  and  puncheons  intermingling,  into  the 
inmost  recesses  of  the  catacombs.  I  paused  again,  and  this  time 
I  made  bold  to  seize  Fortunato  by  an  arm  above  the  elbow. 

"  The  nitre  !  "  I  said ;  "  see,  it  increases.  It  hangs  like  moss 
upon  the  vaults.  We  are  below  the  river's  bed.  The  drops  of 
moisture  trickle  among  the  bones.  Come,  we  will  go  back  ere  it 
is  too  late.  Your  cough " 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  said;  "let  us  go  on.  But  first,  another 
draught  of  the  Medoc." 

I  broke  and  reached  him  a  flagon  of  De  Grave.     He  emptied 

1  No  one  injures  me  with  impunity. 


234  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

it  at  a  breath.    His  eyes  flashed  with  a  fierce  light.    He  laughed  and 
threw  the  bottle  upwards  with  a  gesticulation  I  did  not  understand. 

I  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  repeated  the  movement  —  a 
grotesque  one. 

"  You  do  not  comprehend  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Not  I,"  I  replied. 

"Then  you  are  not  of  the  brotherhood." 

"How?" 

"  You  are  not  of  the  masons." 1 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  said  ;  "  yes,  yes." 

"You?     Impossible!     A  mason?" 

"A  mason,"  I  replied. 

"A  sign/'  he  said,  "a  sign." 

"  It  is  this,"  I  answered,  producing  from  beneath  the  folds  of 
my  roquelaire  a  trowel. 

"  You  jest,"  he  exclaimed,  recoiling  a  few  paces.  "  But  let  us 
proceed  to  the  Amontillado." 

"  Be  it  so,"  I  said,  replacing  the  tool  beneath  the  cloak,  and 
again  offering  him  my  arm.  He  leaned  upon  it  heavily.  We 
continued  our  route  in  search  of  the  Amontillado.  We  passed 
through  a  range  of  low  arches,  descended,  passed  on,  and  descend 
ing  again,  arrived  at  a  deep  crypt,  in  which  the  foulness  of  the 
air  caused  our  flambeaux  rather  to  glow  than  flame. 

At  the  most  remote  end  of  the  crypt  there  appeared  another 
less  spacious.  Its  walls  had  been  lined  with  human  remains, 
piled  to  the  vault  overhead,  in  the  fashion  of  the  great  catacombs 
of  Paris.  Three  sides  of  this  interior  crypt  were  still  ornamented 
in  this  manner.  From  the  fourth  side  the  bones  had  been  thrown 
down,  and  lay  promiscuously  upon  the  earth,  forming  at  one 
point  a  mound  of  some  size.  Within  the  wall  thus  exposed  by  the 
displacing  of  the  bones,  we  perceived  a  still  interior  crypt  or  recess, 
in  depth  about  four  feet,  in  width  three,  in  height  six  or  seven. 
It  seemed  to  have  been  constructed  for  no  especial  use  within 
itself,  but  formed  merely  the  interval  between  two  of  the  colossal 
supports  of  the  roof  of  the  catacombs,  and  was  backed  by  one  of 
their  circumscribing  walls  of  solid  granite. 
1  I.e.  the  Free  Masons. 


THE    CASK   OF  AMONTILLADO  235 

It  was  in  vain  that  Fortunate,  uplifting  his  dull  torch,  endeavored 
to  pry  into  the  depth  of  the  recess.  Its  termination  the  feeble 
light  did  not  enable  us  to  see. 

"Proceed,"  I  said;  "herein  is  the  Amontillado.  As  for 
Luchresi " 

"He  is  an  ignoramus,"  interrupted  my  friend,  as  he  stepped 
unsteadily  forward,  while  I  followed  immediately  at  his  heels. 
In  an  instant  he  had  reached  the  extremity  of  the  niche,  and 
finding  his  progress  arrested  by  the  rock,  stood  stupidly  be 
wildered.  A  moment  more  and  I  had  fettered  him  to  the 
granite.  In  its  surface  were  two  iron  staples,  distant  from  each 
other  about  two  feet,  horizontally.  From  one  of  these  depended 
a  short  chain,  from  the  other  a  padlock.  Throwing  the  links  about 
his  waist,  it  was  but  the  work  of  a  few  seconds  to  secure  it.  He 
was  too  much  astounded  to  resist.  Withdrawing  the  key  I  stepped 
back  from  the  recess. 

"Pass  your  hand,"  I  said,  "over  the  wall;  you  cannot  help 
feeling  the  nitre.  Indeed  it  is  very  damp.  Once  more  let  me 
implore  you  to  return.  No?  Then  I  must  positively  leave  you. 
But  I  must  first  render  you  all  the  little  attentions  in  my  power." 

"  The  Amontillado  ! "  ejaculated  my  friend,  not  yet  recovered 
from  his  astonishment. 

"True,"  I  replied;  "the  Amontillado." 

As  I  said  these  words  I  busied  myself  among  the  pile  of  bones 
of  which  I  have  before  spoken.  Throwing  them  aside,  I  soon 
uncovered  a  quantity  of  building  stone  and  mortar.  With  these 
materials  and  with  the  aid  of  my  trowel,  I  began  vigorously  to  wall 
up  the  entrance  of  the  niche. 

I  had  scarcely  laid  the  first  tier  of  the  masonry  when  I  dis 
covered  that  the  intoxication  of  Fortunato  had  in  a  great  measure 
worn  off.  The  earliest  indication  I  had  of  this  was  a  low  moaning 
cry  from  the  depth  of  the  recess.  It  was  not  the  cry  of  a  drunken 
man.  There  was  then  a  long  and  obstinate  silence.  I  laid  the 
second  tier,  and  the  third,  and  the  fourth ;  and  then  I  heard  the 
furious  vibrations  of  the  chain.  The  noise  lasted  for  several  min-i 
utes,  during  which,  that  I  might  hearken  to  it  with  the  more  satis 
faction,  I  ceased  my  labors  and  sat  down  upon  the  bones.  When 


236  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

at  last  the  clanking  subsided,  I  resumed  the  trowel,  and  finished 
without  interruption  the  fifth,  the  sixth,  and  the  seventh  tier.  The 
wall  was  now  nearly  upon  a  level  with  my  breast.  I  again  paused, 
and  holding  the  flambeaux  over  the  mason-work,  threw  a  few 
feeble  rays  upon  the  figure  within. 

A  succession  of  loud  and  shrill  screams,  bursting  suddenly  from 
the  throat  of  the  chained  form,  seemed  to  thrust  me  violently 
back.  For  a  brief  moment  I  hesitated  —  I  trembled.  Unsheath 
ing  my  rapier,  I  began  to  grope  with  it  about  the  recess ;  but  the 
thought  of  an  instant  reassured  me.  I  placed  my  hand  upon  the 
solid  fabric  of  the  catacombs,  and  felt  satisfied.  I  reapproached 
the  wall.  I  replied  to  the  yells  of  him  who  clamored.  I  reechoed, 
I  aided,  I  surpassed  them  in  volume  and  in  strength.  I  did 
this,  and  the  clamorer  grew  still. 

It  was  now  midnight,  and  my  task  was  drawing  to  a  close.  I 
had  completed  the  eighth,  the  ninth  and  the  tenth  tier.  I  had 
finished  a  portion  of  the  last  and  the  eleventh ;  there  remained 
but  a  single  stone  to  be  fitted  and  plastered  in.  I  struggled  with 
its  weight ;  I  placed  it  partially  in  its  destined  position.  But  now 
there  came  from  out  the  niche  a  low  laugh  that  erected  the  hairs 
upon  my  head.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  sad  voice,  which  I  had 
difficulty  in  recognizing  as  that  of  the  noble  Fortunate.  The  voice 
said  — 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  —  he  !  he  !  he  !  —  a  very  good  joke,  indeed  — 
an  excellent  jest.  We  will  have  many  a  rich  laugh  about  it  at  the 
palazzo  —  he!  he!  he!  —  over  our  wine  —  he!  he!  he!" 

"  The  Amontillado  !  "  I  said. 

"  He  !  he  !  he  !  —  he  !  he  !  he  !  —  yes,  the  Amontillado.  But  is 
it  hot  getting  late  ?  Will  not  they  be  awaiting  us  at  the  palazzo, 
the  Lady  Fortunate  and  the  rest?  Let  us  be  gone." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "let  us  be  gone." 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  Montresor  !  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  for  the  love  of  God  ! " 

But  to  these  words  I  hearkened  in  vain  for  a  reply.  I  grew 
impatient.  I  called  aloud  — 

"  Fortunato  ! " 

No  answer.     I  called  again  — 


THE  POETIC  PRINCIPLE 

"  Fortunate  ! " 

No  answer  still.  I  thrust  a  torch  through  the  remaining  aper 
ture  and  let  it  fall  within.  There  came  forth  in  return  only  a 
jingling  of  the  bells.  My  heart  grew  sick ;  it  was  the  dampness  of 
the  catacombs  that  made  it  so.  I  hastened  to  make  an  end  of 
my  labor.  I  forced  the  last  stone  into  its  position ;  I  plastered 
it  up.  Against  the  new  masonry  I  reerected  the  old  rampart  of 
bones.  For  the  half  of  a  century  no  mortal  has  disturbed  them. 
In  pace  requiescat ! 

THE   POETIC   PRINCIPLE1 

IN  speaking  of  the  Poetic  Principle,  I  have  no  design  to  be 
either  thorough  or  profound.  While  discussing,  very  much  at  ran 
dom,  the  essentiality  of  what  we  call  Poetry,  my  principal  purpose 
will  be  to  cite,  for  consideration,  some  few  of  those  minor 
English  or  American  poems  which  best  suit  my  own  taste,  or  which, 
upon  my  own  fancy,  have  left  the  most  definite  impression.  By 
"  minor  poems  "  I  mean,  of  course,  poems  of  little  length.  And 
here,  in  the  beginning,  permit  me  to  say  a  few  words  in  regard  to 
a  somewhat  peculiar  principle,  which,  whether  rightfully  or  wrong 
fully,  has  always  had  its  influence  in  my  own  critical  estimate  of 
the  poem.  I  hold  that  a  long  poem  does  not  exist.  I  maintain 
that  the  phrase,  "  a  long  poem,"  is  simply  a  flat  contradiction  in 
terms. 

I  need  scarcely  observe  that  a  poem  deserves  its  title  only  inas 
much  as  it  excites,  by  elevating  the  soul.  The  value  of  the  poem 
is  in  the  ratio  of  this  elevating  -excitement.  But  all  excitements 
are,  through  a  psychal  necessity,  transient.  That  degree  of  excite 
ment  which  would  entitle  a  poem  to  be  so  called  at  all,  cannot  be 
sustained  throughout  a  composition  of  any  great  length.  After  the 
lapse  of  half  an  hour,  at  the  very  utmost,  it  flags  —  fails  —  a  revul 
sion  ensues  —  and  then  the  poem  is,  in  effect,  and  in  fact,  no  longer 
such. 

1  First  published  in  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  for  October,  1850 ;  delivered  as  a 
lecture  toward  the  close  of  Poe's  life.  It  may  be  remarked  that  some  of  the  judg 
ments  here  expressed  are  by  no  means  universally  assented  to. 


238  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

There  are,  no  doubt,  many  who  have  found  difficulty  in  reconcil 
ing  the  critical  dictum  that  the  "  Paradise  Lost "  is  to  be  devoutly 
admired  throughout,  with  the  absolute  impossibility  of  maintaining 
for  it,  during  perusal,  the  amount  of  enthusiasm  which  that  critical 
dictum  would  demand.  This  great  work,  in  fact,  is  to  be  regarded 
as  poetical,  only  when,  losing  sight  of  that  vital  requisite  in  all 
works  of  Art,  Unity,  we  view  it  merely  as  a  series  of  minor  poems. 
If,  to  preserve  its  Unity  —  its  totality  of  effect  or  impression  —  we 
read  it  (as  would  be  necessary)  at  a  single  sitting,  the  result  is  but  a 
constant  alternation  of  excitement  and  depression.  After  a  passage 
of  what  we  feel  to  be  true  poetry,  there  follows,  inevitably,  a  passage 
of  platitude  which  no  critical  pre-judgment  can  force  us  to  admire  ; 
but  if,  upon  completing  the  work,  we  read  it  again ;  omitting  the 
first  book  —  that  is  to  say,  commencing  with  the  second  —  we 
shall  be  surprised  at  now  finding  that  admirable  which  we  before 
condemned  —  that  damnable  which  we  had  previously  so  much 
admired.  It  follows  from  all  this  that  the  ultimate,  aggregate,  or 
absolute  effect  of  even  the  best  epic  under  the  sun,  is  a  nullity  :  — 
and  this  is  precisely  the  fact. 

In  regard  to  the  Iliad,  we  have,  if  not  positive  proof,  at  least 
very  good  reason,  for  believing  it  intended  as  a  series  of  lyrics ; 
but,  granting  the  epic  intention,  I  can  say  only  that  the  work  is 
based  in  an  imperfect  sense  of  art.  The  modern  epic  is,  of  the 
supposititious  ancient  model,  but  an  inconsiderate  and  blindfold 
imitation.  But  the  day  of  these  artistic  anomalies  is  over.  If,  at 
any  time,  any  very  long  poem  were  popular  in  reality,  which  I 
doubt,  it  is  at  least  clear  that  no  very  long  poem  will  ever  be 
popular  again. 

That  the  extent  of  a  poetical  work  is,  ceteris  paribus^  the 
measure  of  its  merit,  seems  undoubtedly,  when  we  thus  state  it, 
a  proposition  sufficiently  absurd  —  yet  we  are  indebted  for  it  to 
the  Quarterly  Reviews.  Surely  there  can  be  nothing  in  mere  size, 
abstractly  considered  —  there  can  be  nothing  in  mere  bulk,  so  far  as 
a  volume  is  concerned,  which  has  so  continuously  elicited  admira 
tion  from  these  saturnine  pamphlets  !  A  mountain,  to  be  sure,  by 
the  mere  sentiment  of  physical  magnitude  which  it  conveys,  does 

1  Other  things  being  equal. 


ANNABEL  LEE  239 

impress  us  with  a  sense  of  the  sublime  —  but  no  man  is  impressed 
after  this  fashion  by  the  material  grandeur  of  even  "  The  Colum- 
biad."1  Even  the  Quarterlies  have  not  instructed  us  to  be  so 
impressed  by  it.  As  yet,  they  have  not  insisted  on  our  estimating 
Lamartine2  by  the  cubic  foot,  or  Pollok3  by  the  pound  —  but 
what  else  are  we  to  infer  from  their  continual  prating  about  "  sus 
tained  effort "  ?  If,  by  "  sustained  effort,"  any  little  gentleman 
has  accomplished  an  epic,  let  us  frankly  commend  him  for  the 
effort  —  if  this  indeed  be  a  thing  commendable  —  but  let  us  for 
bear  praising  the  epic  on  the  effort's  account.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  common  sense,  in  the  time  to  come,  will  prefer  deciding 
upon  a  work  of  art,  rather  by  the  impression  it  makes,  by  the 
effect  it  produces,  than  by  the  time  it  took  to  impress  the  effect 
or  by  the  amount  of  "sustained  effort"  which  had  been  found 
necessary  in  effecting  the  impression..  The  fact  is,  that  perse 
verance  is  one  thing,  and  genius  quite  another  —  nor  can  all  the 
Quarterlies  in  Christendom  confound  them.  By-and-by  this 
proposition,  with  many  which  I  have  been  just  urging,  will  be 
received  as  self-evident.  In  the  meantime,  by  being  generally 
condemned  as  falsities,  they  will  not  be  essentially  damaged  as 
truths. 

ANNABEL  LEE4 

IT  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago, 

In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
That  a  maiden  there  lived  whom  you  may  know 

By  the  name  of  ANNABEL  LEE  ; 
And  this  maiden  she  lived  with  no  other  thought 

Than  to  love  and  be  loved  by  me. 

I  was  a  child  and  she  was  a  child, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 

1  An  epic  by  the  American  poet,  Joel  Barlow  (1755-1812). 

2  Alphonse  de  Lamartine,  the  famous  French  poet,  statesman,  and  historian. 

3  Robert  Pollok  (1799-1827),  a  Scotchman,  author  of  the  didactic  poem,  "The 
Course  of  Time." 

4  First  published  in  the  New  York  Tribune,  October  9,  1849. 


240  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

But  we  loved  with  a  love  that  was  more  than  love  — 

I  and  my  ANNABEL  LEE  — 
With  a  love  that  the  winged  seraphs  of  heaven 

Coveted  her  and  me. 

And  this  was  the  reason  that,  long  ago, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
A  wind  blew  out  of  a  cloud,  chilling 

My  beautiful  ANNABEL  LEE  ; 
So  that  her  highborn  kinsmen  came l 

And  bore  her  away  from  me, 
To  shut  her  up  in  a  sepulchre 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea. 

The  angels,  not  half  so  happy  in  heaven, 

Went  envying  her  and  me  — 
Yes  !  —  that  was  the  reason  (as  all  men  know, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea) 
That  the  wind  came  out  of  the  cloud  by  night, 

Chilling  and  killing  my  ANNABEL  LEE. 

But  our  love  it  was  stronger  by  far  than  the  love 
Of  those  who  were  older  than  we  — 
Of  many  far  wiser  than  we  — 

And  neither  the  angels  in  heaven  above, 

Nor  the  demons  down  under  the  sea, 

Can  ever  dissever  my  soul  from  the  soul 

,  Of  the  beautiful  ANNABEL  LEE  : 

For  the  moon  never  beams,  without  bringing  me  dreams 

Of  the  beautiful  ANNABEL  LEE  ; 
"And  the  stars  never  rise,  but  I  feel  the  bright  eyes 

Of  the  beautiful  ANNABEL  LEE  : 
And  so,  all  the  night-tide,  I  lie  down  by  the  side 
Of  my  darling  —  my  darling  —  my  life  and  my  bride, 

In  the  sepulchre  there  by  the  sea  — 

In  her  tomb  by  the  sounding  sea. 

1  This  has  been  thought  by  some  to  refer  to  the  angels  that  took  Poe's  wife, 
Virginia,  from  him. 


ALBERT  PIKE  241 


ALBERT   PIKE 

[ALBERT  PIKE  was  born  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  December  29,  1809,  and 
died  in  Washington,  D.C.,  April  2,  1891.  He  owes  his  place  in  this  volume 
to  the  fact  that,  after  studying  at  Harvard  and  teaching  school  in  his  native 
state,  he  finally  settled  for  many  years  in  the  Southwest.  He  reached  Fort 
Smith,  Arkansas,  at  the  end  of  1832,  after  months  of  exploration  in  the  far 
West,  much  of  his  travelling  having  been  done  on  foot.  He  taught  school  in 
one  or  two  towns,  and  then,  removing  to  Little  Rock,  he  became  an  editor  and 
later  a  lawyer,  achieving  considerable  local  reputation.  He  was  more  widely 
known  as  a  poet,  especially  after  his  remarkable  "  Hymns  to  the  Gods"  were 
published  in  Blackwood^s  Magazine  in  I839.1  He  had  previously  contributed 
to  New  England  magazines  and  had  issued  a  volume  of  "  Prose  Sketches 
and  Poems"  at  Boston  in  1834.  Although  plainly  influenced  by  Coleridge 
and  Keats  and  Shelley,  his  poetical  work  was  of  such  quality  that  it  is  regret 
table  that  he  did  not  write  more,  and  strange  that  what  he  did  write  is  not 
better  known.  He  was,  however,  more  of  a  man  of  action,  perhaps,  for  in 
both  the  Mexican  and  the  Civil  wars  he  played  a  conspicuous  part.  In  the  for 
mer  he  commanded  a  cavalry  company  and  performed  other  services :  in  the  lat 
ter  he  was  Confederate  commissioner  to  the  Indian  tribes  and  also  a  brigadier 
general  in  command  of  Indians.  Between  the  two  wars  he  practised  law  in  New 
Orleans  (1853-1857)  and  then  returned  to  Arkansas.  Immediately  after  the 
Civil  War  he  practised  law  and  edited  a  newspaper  in  Memphis,  Tennessee, 
but  in  1868  he  removed  to  Washington,  D.C.,  where  he  devoted  himself  both 
to  his  profession  and  to  free-masonry.  He  published  many  books  of  a  masonic 
character  and  attained  a  supreme  position  in  the  order.  His  literary  works 
were  in  his  later  years  printed  privately  in  three  editions  ("Nugse,"  1854, 
and  collections  in  1873  and  1881.)  This  fact  partly  accounts  for  his  compara 
tive  failure  to  attract  attention  as  a  poet  save  by  single  poems  such  as  the  song 
"  Dixie,"  in  which  he  showed  how  completely  he  had  espoused  the  cause  of 
his  adopted  section.  A  statue  has  been  erected  to  him  in  Washington.2] 

1  The  "  Hymns  "  were  eight  in  number,  and  filled  pages  819-830;   they  were 
accompanied  by  a  letter  from  Pike  and  a  complimentary  note  signed  "C.  N."  — 
the  editor,  "  Christopher  North,"  i.e.  John  Wilson.    In  "  Nugae  "  the  number  of  the 
"  Hymns  "  is  twelve.    The  eight  original  "  Hymns  "  are  given  by  Griswold  in  his 
"  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  where,  in  an  interesting  sketch  ot  Pike,  we  are 
informed  that  he  composed  his  tributes  to  the  gods  of  Greece  when  he  was  a  young 
teacher  in  Massachusetts. 

2  Courteous  permission  to   quote  from  his  father's  works  has  been  given  by 
Yvon  Pike,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  D.C. 

R 


242  ALBERT  PIKE 


TO  APOLLO 

[FROM  "Nuc^:,"  I854.1  THE  EXTRACT  is  FROM  "HYMNS  TO  THE  GODS," 
No. 'VI,  "To  APOLLO,"  AND  CONSTITUTES  THE  SECOND  STANZA  OF  THE 
POEM,  WHICH  is  DATED,  1829.] 

MOST  exquisite  poet !     Thou,  whose  great  heart's  swell 

Pours  itself  out  on  mountain,  lawn,  and  dell ! 

Thou  who  dost  touch  them  with  thy  golden  feet, 

And  make  them  for  the  Painter's  use  complete ; 

Inspired  by  whom  the  Poet's  eyes  perceive 

Great  beauty  everywhere,  —  in  the  slow  heave 

Of  the  unquiet  sea,  or  in  the  roar 

Of  its  resounding  waters,  —  on  the  shore 

Of  pleasant  streams,  —  in  the  dark,  jagged  rift 

Of  savage  mountains,  where  the  black  clouds  drift 

Flushed  with  swift  lightning,  —  on  the  broad,  dark  brow 

Of  silent  Night,  that  solemnly  and  slow 

Walks  up  the  sky.     Oh,  thou,  whose  influence 

Tinges  all  things  with  beauty,  makes  each  sense 

Double  delight,  and  clothes  with  a  delicate  grace 

All  that  is  young  and  fair ;  while  all  the  base 

Flits  far,  like  darkness  !  —  thou  that  art  in  truth 

Incarnate  loveliness,  hear,  while  our  youth 

With  earnest  yearning  cry  ! 
Answer  our  hymn,  and  come  to  us,  Most  High ! 


DIXIE 

SOUTHRONS,  hear  your  country  call  you  ! 
Up,  lest  worse  than  death  befall  you  ! 
To  arms  !  To  arms  !  To  arms,  in  Dixie  ! 

1  For  the  opportunity  to  examine  and  use  this  rare,  privately  printed  volume  of 
which  only  one  hundred  and  sixty  copies  were  issued,  the  editor  is  indebted  to  the 
courtesy  of  Mr.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  the  poet-critic,  whose  labors  in  behalf 
of  our  national  literature  cannot  easily  be  overpraised. 


DIXIE  243 

Lo  !  all  the  beacon-fires  are  lighted,  — 
Let  all  hearts  be  now  united  ! 

To  arms  !  To  arms  !  To  arms,  in  Dixie  ! 
Advance  the  flag  of  Dixie  ! 

Hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
For  Dixie's  land  we  take  our  stand, 

And  live  or  die  for  Dixie  ! 
To  arms  !  To  arms  ! 

And  conquer  peace  for  Dixie  ! 
To  arms  !  To  arms  ! 

And  conquer  peace  for  Dixie  ! 

Hear  the  Northern  thunders  mutter  ! 
Northern  flags  in  South  winds  flutter  ! 
Send  them  back  your  fierce  defiance  ! 
Stamp  upon  the  accursed  alliance  ! 

Fear  no  danger  !  Shun  no  labor  ! 
Lift  up  rifle,  pike,  and  sabre  ! 
Shoulder  pressing  close  to  shoulder, 
Let  the  odds  make  each  heart  bolder  ! 

How  the  South's  great  heart  rejoices 
At  your  cannons'  ringing  voices  ! 
For  faith  betrayed,  and  pledges  broken, 
Wrong  inflicted,  insults  spoken. 

Strong  as  lions,  swift  as  eagles, 

Back  to  their  kennels  hunt  these  beagles  ! 

Cut  the  unequal  bonds  asunder  ! 

Let  them  hence  each  other  plunder  ! 

Swear  upon  your  country's  altar 
Never  to  submit  or  falter, 
Till  the  spoilers  are  defeated, 
Till  the  Lord's  work  is  completed. 


244  ALBERT  PIKE 

Halt  not  till  our  Federation 
Secures  among  earth's  Powers  its  station  ! 
Then  at  peace,  and  crowned  with  glory, 
Hear  your  children  tell  the  story  ! 

If  the  loved  ones  weep  in  sadness, 
Victory  soon  shall  bring  them  gladness,  — 

To  arms  ! 

Exultant  pride  soon  banish  sorrow, 
Smiles  chase  tears  away  to-morrow. 

To  arms  !  To  arms  !  To  arms,  in  Dixie  ! 
Advance  the  flag  of  Dixie  ! 

Hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
For  Dixie's  land  we  take  our  stand, 

And  live  or  die  for  Dixie  ! 
To  arms  !  To  arms  ! 

And  conquer  peace  for  Dixie  ! 
To  arms  !  To  arms  ! 

And  conquer  peace  for  Dixie  ! l 

TO   THE   MOCKING  BIRD 

THOU  glorious  mocker  of  the  world  !  I  hear 

Thy  many  voices  ringing  through  the  glooms 
.  Of  these  green  solitudes ;  and  all  the  clear, 

Bright  joyance  of  their  song  enthralls  the  ear, 
And  floods  the  heart.     Over  the  sphered  tombs 

Of  vanished  nations  rolls  thy  music-tide  : 
No  light  from  History's  starlit  page  illumes 

The  memory  of  these  nations  ;  they  have  died  : 

None  care  for  them  but  thou  ;  and  thou  mayst  sing 
O'er  me,  perhaps,  as  now  thy  clear  notes  ring 

Over  their  bones  by  whom  thou  once  wast  deified. 

1  The  texts  of  this  and  the  following  poem  conform  with  those  of  Stedman's 
"  American  Anthology."  For  the  poem  that  has  interested  students  of  Poe,  "  The 
Widowed  Heart"  (in  "  Nugae,"  "Isadore"),  which  may  have  suggested  "The 
Raven"  and  is  dated  1843,  see  tne  "American  Anthology"  or  the  "Library  of 
American  Literature,"  as  well  as  some  remarks  in  Professor  A.  G.  Newcomer's 
"  The  Poe-Chivers  Tradition  Reexamined  "  in  The  Sewanee  Review,  January,  1904. 


TO    THE  MOCKING  BIRD  245 

Glad  scorner  of  all  cities  !     Thou  dost  leave 

The  world's  mad  turmoil  and  incessant  din, 
Where  none  in  others'  honesty  believe, 
Where  the  old  sigh,  the  young  turn  gray  and  grieve, 

Where  misery  gnaws  the  maiden's  heart  within. 
Thou  fleest  far  into  the  dark  green  woods, 

Where,  with  thy  flood  of  music,  thou  canst  win 
Their  heart  to  harmony,  and  where  intrudes 

No  discord  on  thy  melodies.     Oh,  where, 

Among  the  sweet  musicians  of  the  air, 
Is  one  so  dear  as  thou  to  these  old  solitudes? 

Ha  !  what  a  burst  was  that !     The  ^Eolian  strain 

Goes  floating  through  the  tangled  passages 
Of  the  still  woods ;  and  now  it  comes  again, 
A  multitudinous  melody,  like  a  rain 

Of  glassy  music  under  echoing  trees, 
Close  by  a  ringing  lake.     It  wraps  the  soul 

With  a  bright  harmony  of  happiness, 
Even  as  a  gem  is  wrapped  when  round  it  roll 

Thin  waves  of  crimson  flame,  till  we  become, 

With  the  excess  of  perfect  pleasure,  dumb, 
And  pant  like  a  swift  runner  clinging  to  the  goal. 

I  cannot  love  the  man  who  doth  not  love, 
As  men  love  light,  the  song  of  happy  birds ; 

For  the  first  visions  that  my  boy-heart  wove, 

To  fill  its  sleep  with,  were  that  I  did  rove 

Through  the  fresh  woods,  what  time  the  snowy  herds 

Of  morning  clouds  shrunk  from  the  advancing  sun, 
Into  the  depths  of  Heaven's  blue  heart,  as  words 

From  the  Poet's  lips  float  gently,  one  by  one, 
And  vanish  in  the  human  heart ;  and  then 
I  revelled  in  such  songs,  and  sorrowed,  when, 

With  noon-heat  overwrought,  the  music-gush  was  done. 

I  would,  sweet  bird,  that  I  might  live  with  thee, 
Amid  the  eloquent  grandeur  of  these  shades, 


246  ALBERT  PIKE 

Alone  with  Nature  !  —  but  it  may  not  be  : 
I  have  to  struggle  with  the  stormy  sea 

Of  human  life  until  existence  fades 
Into  death's  darkness.     Thou  wilt  sing  and  soar 

Through  the  thick  woods  and  shadow-checkered  glades, 
While  pain  and  sorrow  cast  no  dimness  o'er 

The  brilliance  of  thy  heart  ;  but  I  must  wear, 

As  now,  my  garments  of  regret  and  care, 
As  penitents  of  old  their  galling  sackcloth  wore. 

Yet,  why  complain  ?     What  though  fond  hopes  deferred 
Have  overshadowed  Life's  green  paths  with  gloom  ? 

Content's  soft  music  is  not  all  unheard  : 

There  is  a  voice  sweeter  than  thine,  sweet  bird, 
To  welcome  me,  within  my  humble  home  ; 

There  is  an  eye,  with  love's  devotion  bright, 
The  darkness  of  existence  to  illume. 

Then  why  complain  ?     When  Death  shall  cast  his  blight 
Over  the  spirit,  my  cold  bones  shall  rest 
Beneath  these  trees  ;  and  from  thy  swelling  breast, 

Over  them  pour  thy  song,  like  a  rich  flood  of  light. 

[I834-1] 

FROM   A  TRIBUTE   TO   SHELLEY,  WRITTEN   IN   1835 
[FROM  "Nuc^E,"  1854.] 


FARE  thee  well, 

Young  Star  of  Poetry,  now  set  for  ever  ! 
Yet,  though  eclipsed  for  ever  to  this  world, 
Still  thy  light  fills  the  earth's  dull  atmosphere, 
A  legacy  inestimable.     Man 

1  "  Nugae  "  contains  another  and  by  no  means  bad  poem  upon  the  mocking  bird, 
dated  1829.  (Compare  the  tributes  to  the  songster  by  Wilde,  Meek,  Hayne, 
Lanier,  and  half  a  dozen  or  a  dozen  more  poets.)  It  also  contains  a  spirited 
ballad,  "  Buena  Vista,"  which  is  here  omitted  on  account  of  restricted  space.  The 
poem  entitled  "  Every  Year,"  a  favorite  with  many  of  General  Pike's  friends  and 
admirers,  may  be  found  reprinted  in  the  Stedman-Hutchinson  "  Library  of  Ameri 
can  Literature." 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  STEPHENS  247 

Hath  done  thee  wrong,  wronging  himself  the  more, 
By  cold  neglect,  and  small  appreciation 
Of  thy  divinest  songs.     The  day  will  come 
When  justice  will  be  done  thee. 

********* 

Then  none  of  all  the  muse's  younger  sons 
Will  rival  thee,  except  that  glorious  one,1 
Who  burned  thy  corpse  on  Italy's  fair  shores. 
But  what  is  fame  to  thee?     Small  recompense 
For  persecution,  obloquy,  and  wrong ; 
For  poverty  and  shattered  hopes,  and  life 
Embittered  till  it  was  no  pain  to  die  ! 2 


ALEXANDER   HAMILTON    STEPHENS 

[ALEXANDER  STEPHENS  was  born  near  Crawfordsville,  Georgia,  February  n, 
1812,  and  died  in  Atlanta,  March  4,  1883.  His  father's  family  had  migrated 
from  Pennsylvania  to  Georgia,  after  the  Revolution.  Left  an  orphan  while  still 
a  youth,  Stephens  attracted  the  notice  of  a  well-to-do  man,  who  gave  him  a 
schooling.  He  also  found  another  benefactor  in  the  person  of  his  school 
master,  from  whom  he  took  his  middle  name.  In  1828  he  entered  Franklin 
College  (now  the  University  of  Georgia),  intending  to  become  a  Presbyterian 
minister,  and  he  graduated  there  with  distinction  in  1832.  Then  he  taught 
school,  paid  back  the  money  advanced  for  his  education,  and  studied  law. 
After  a  brilliant  examination  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1834,  and  soon 
gained  a  practice.  Elected  to  the  legislature,  he  advocated  railroads,  the 
chartering  of  a  college  for  women,  and  other  progressive  enterprises  and 
measures.  In  1843  he  was  elected  to  Congress,  where  he  took  high  rank 
among  his  fellow- Whigs.  During  the  campaign,  in  which  he  had  a  large 
majority  to  overcome,  he  was  frequently  taken  for  a  boy  on  account  of  his 
very  diminutive  stature,  but  as  an  orator  he  easily  distanced  his  opponent.  In 
Congress  he  showed  himself  to  be  an  acute  debater,  especially  on  Constitu 
tional  points,  and,  although  a  thorough  Southerner,  he  joined  his  friend 
Robert  Toombs  (1810-1885)  in  opposing  the  Mexican  War.  In  the  contro- 

1  Byron. 

2  Compare  this   early  tribute  with   that  of   Browning  in    "Pauline"    (1833). 
Remember  that   Pike  also  showed  his  early  appreciation  of  other  great  English 
poets  of  the  Georgian  Era,  and  note  Poe's  prompt  recognition  of  Tennyson  and 
Simms's  of  Robert  Browning. 


248  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  STEPHENS 

versies  that  soon  arose  over  the  admission  of  slavery  into  the  territories,  he 
took  the  Southern  side,  but  refused  to  join  the  advocates  of  secession.  With 
Toombs  he  was  largely  instrumental  in  securing  the  passage  of  the  compro 
mise  of  1850  and  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  of  1854,  the  last-named 
measure  turning  out  to  be  a  death-blow  to  the  Whig  party,  of  which  both 
statesmen  had  been  stanch  adherents.  Shortly  afterward  Stephens  deter 
mined  to  retire  from  Congress;  but  he  changed  his  mind  when  it  looked  as  if 
the  Know  Nothing  party  would  carry  Georgia,  and  he  was  triumphantly  elected 
after  a  campaign  in  which  it  seemed  that  his  puny  frame  would  collapse.  After 
supporting  the  Democrats  in  the  controversy  over  the  admission  of  Kansas,  he 
again  made  plans  to  retire,  and  carried  them  out  for  a  time  by  resigning  in 
1859.  The  next  year  saw  him  endeavoring  to  stem  the  tide  of  the  secession 
movement  in  Georgia.  He  headed  the  Douglas  electors,  and  his  friend 
Toombs  those  of  Breckinridge;  but  the  estrangement  that  resulted  was  not 
of  long  duration.  After  the  election  of  Lincoln,  Stephens  made  a  masterly 
speech,  on  November  14,  before  the  Georgia  legislature,  in  which  he  undertook 
to  show  that  the  choice  of  a  Republican  by  the  North  and  West  did  not 
warrant  the  withdrawal  of  the  South  from  the  Union.  This  speech  was  widely 
circulated  throughout  the  country,  but  produced  little  effect.  When  Georgia 
seceded,  Stephens  stood  by  his  state,  after  having  voted  against  her  action. 
He  was  then  elected  Vice-President  of  the  Confederacy.  He  soon  differed 
with  President  Davis,  chiefly  in  regard  to  the  rights  of  the  individual  states, 
and  on  the  whole  he  took  little  share  in  directing  the  policy  of  the  Confeder 
ate  government.  In  1864  he  was  important  in  the  councils  of  the  Georgia 
party  interested  in  securing  peace.  In  February,  1865,  he  took  part  in  the 
Hampton  Roads  Conference  with  President  Lincoln,  and  a  little  later  he  was 
imprisoned  in  Fort  Warren  in  Boston  Harbor.  He  was  released  in  October 
and  set  himself  to  the  task  of  inducing  his  fellow-Southerners  to  accept  quietly 
the  Reconstruction  measures.  He  also  devoted  himself  to  the  defence  of  the 
Southern  cause  by  his  pen,  and  produced  the  first  volume  of  his  "  War  between 
the  States"  (1867).  This  work,  despite  his  wretched  health,  he  completed 
in  1870  by  the  publication  of  a  second  volume.  It  is  generally  considered  to 
be  the  most  powerfully  reasoned  presentation  of  the  states'  rights  theory  and 
of  the  South's  political  course  that  has  yet  been  written,  but  it  suffers  some 
what  from  being  cast  into  the  form  of  a  colloquy.  Then  he  wrote  a  "  School 
History  of  the  United  States"  (1870-1871),  lectured  on  law,  edited  a  news 
paper,  and  was  twice  an  unsuccessful  candidate  for  the  United  States  Senate. 
In  1873  he  was  elected  to  Congress,  where  he  served  until  1882.  In  the  con 
troversy  over  the  election  of  1876  he  took  a  conservative  and  serviceable 
stand,  and  in  other  ways  he  proved  an  important  factor  in  the  process  of 
reconciling  the  sections.  After  his  resignation  from  Congress  he  published 
"A  History  of  the  United  States,"  which  was  a  financial  failure,  but  he  closed 
his  life  by  beginning  a  successful  administration  as  governor  of  Georgia.  His 
right  to  rank  among  the  foremost  Southern  statesmen  of  the  Civil  War  period, 


A  PLEA   FOR    UNION 


249 


among  the  most  acute  political  writers  and  the  most  effective  orators,  as  well 
as  among  the  most  genial  and  benevolent  men  the  South  has  produced,  is 
universally  recognized.  His  life  has  been  written  by  H.  Cleveland  (1866) 
and,  authoritatively,  by  the  late  Colonel  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston  (q.v.}- 
in  conjunction  with  Professor ,  William  Hand  Browne  (1878).  See  also  for 
interesting  details  about  Stephens,  Colonel  Johnston's"  Autobiography  ";  and 
for  Stephens  and  Toombs  as  political  leaders,  the  editor's  "  Southern  States 
men  of  the  Old  Regime"  (1897).] 


A  PLEA  FOR   UNION  i 
[FROM  THE  SPEECH  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  LEGISLATURE  OF  GEORGIA  AT 

MlLLEDGEVILLE,   NOVEMBER    14,    i860.] 

.  .  .  THE  organization  of  society  has  much  to  do  with  the  de 
velopment  of  the  natural  resources  of  any  country  or  any  land. 
The  institutions  of  a  people,  political  and  moral,  are  the  matrix  in 
which  the  germ  of  their  organic  structure  quickens,  into  life,  takes 
root,  and  develops  in  form,  nature,  and  character.  Our  institu 
tions  constitute  the  basis,  the  matrix,  from  which  spring  all  our 
characteristics  of  development  and  greatness.  Look  at  Greece  ! 
There  is  the  same  fertile  soil,  the  same  blue  sky,  the  same 
inlets  and  harbors,  the  same  ^Egean,  the  same  Olympus,  —  there 

1  The  text  is  from  Appendix  B  to  Johnston  and  Browne's  "  Life  of  Alexander 
H.  Stephens"  (1878),  by  kind  permission  of  Dr.  William  Hand  Browne  and  the 
publishers,  the  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company.  The  student  should  take  note  that  the 
stenographic  report  of  the  speech  was  very  imperfect,  and  should  therefore  make 
'allowances  for  the  interchange  of  "  would  "  for"  should  "  and  other  stylistic  defects. 
The  effect  of  the  extempore  utterances  of  the  patriotic  orator  upon  his  audience 
was  very  great.  His  opponent  Toombs  rose  and  said :  "  Fellow-citizens,  we  have 
just  listened  to  a  speech  from  one  of  the  brightest  intellects  and  purest  patriots  that 
now  lives.  I  move  that  this  meeting  now  adjourn,  with  three  cheers  for  Alexander 
H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia."  The  speech  made  a  great  sensation  throughout  the 
country  and  led  to  an  interesting  correspondence  between  Mr.  Stephens  and  Mr. 
Lincoln,  the  President-elect.  Events  moved  rapidly,  however,  and  in  a  little  more 
than  two  months  Georgia  seceded  and  Stephens  regretfully  sided  with  his  state. 
See  Johnston  and  Browne's  "  Life,"  Chap.  XXXIII.  For  the  crisis  of  1850  and  the 
celebrated  Georgia  Platform  or  Resolutions  of  that  year,  see  the  same  book, 
Chap.  XXIV.  It  is  worth  while  to  add  that  a  speech,  or  a  portion  of  a  speech, 
purporting  to  have  been  made  by  Mr.  Stephens  before  the  Georgia  Seceding  Con 
vention,  which  was  extensively  circulated  in  the  North  by  the  Loyal  Publication 
Society  (No.  56,  1864) ,  appears  not  to  be  genuine. 


250  .  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  STEPHENS 

is  the  same  land  where  Homer  sang,  where  Pericles  spoke, — 
it  is  in  nature  the  same  old  Greece ;  but  it  is  living  Greece  no 
more  ! J 

Descendants  of  the  same  people  inhabit  the  country ;  yet  what 
is  the  reason  of  this  mighty  difference?  In  the  midst  of  the 
present  degradation  we  see  the  glorious  fragments  of  ancient 
works  of  art,  —  temples  with  ornaments  and  inscriptions  that 
excite  wonder  and  admiration,  the  remains  of  a  once  high  order 
of  civilization,  which  have  outlived  the  language  they  spoke. 
Upon  them  all  Ichabod  is  written,  —  their  glory  has  departed. 
Why  is  this  so?  I  answer,  their  institutions  have  been  destroyed. 
These  were  but  the  fruits  of  their  forms  of  government,  the  matrix 
from  which  their  grand  development  sprang ;  and  when  once  the 
institutions  of  our  people  shall  have  been  destroyed,  there  is  no 
earthly  power  that  can  bring  back  the  Promethean  spark  to  kindle 
them  here  again,  any  more  than  in  the  ancient  land  of  eloquence, 
poetry,  and  song.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Italy.  Where  is 
Rome,  once  the  mistress  of  the  world?  There  are  the  same  seven 
hills  now,  the  same  soil,  the  same  natural  resources ;  nature  is  the 
same ;  but  what'a  ruin  of  human  greatness  meets  the  eye  of  the 
traveller  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  that  most  down 
trodden  land  !  Why  have  not  the  people  of  that  Heaven-favored 
clime  the  spirit  that  animated  their  fathers?  Why  this  sad  differ 
ence  ?  It  is  the  destruction  of  her  institutions  that  has  caused  it. 
And,  my  countrymen,  if  we  shall  in  an  evil  hour  rashly  pull  down 
and  destroy  those  institutions,  which  the  patriotic  hand  of  our 
fathers  labored  so  long  and  so  hard  to  build  up,  and  which  have 
done  so  much  for  us  and  for  the  world,  who  can  venture  the  pre 
diction  that  similar  results  will  not  ensue?  Let  us  avoid  them  if 
we  can.  I  trust  the  spirit  is  among  us  that  will  enable  us  to  do  it. 
Let  us  not  rashly  try  the  experiment  of  change,  of  pulling  down 
and  destroying,  for,  as  in  Greece  and  Italy,  and  the  South  Ameri 
can  republics,  and  in  every  other  place,  whenever  our  liberty  is 
once  lost,  it  may  never  be  restored  to  us  again. 

There  are  defects  in  our  government,  errors  in  our  administra 
tion,  and  shortcomings  of  many  kinds,  but  in  spite  of  these  defects 
1  Cf.  Byron,  "  The  Giaour,"  near  the  opening  of  the  poem. 


A   PLEA   FOR    UNION  2$l 

and  errors  Georgia  has  grown  to  be  a  great  State.  Let  us  pause 
here  a  moment.  In  1850  there  was  a  great  crisis,  but  not  so  fear 
ful  as  this,  for  of  all  I  have  ever  passed  through  this  is  the  most 
perilous,  and  requires  to  be  met  with  the  greatest  calmness  and 
deliberation. 

There  were  many  among  us  in  1850  zealous  to  go  at  once  out 
of  the  Union,  —  to  disrupt  every  tie  that  binds  us  together.  Now  do 
you  believe,  had  that  policy  been  carried  out  at  that  time,  we 
would  have  been  the  same  great  people  that  we  are  to-day?  It 
may  be  that  we  would,  but  have  you  any  assurance  of  that  fact? 
Would  we  have  made  the  same  advancement,  improvement,  and 
progress  in  all  that  constitutes  material  wealth  and  prosperity  that 
we  have? 

I  notice  in  the  Comptroller-General's  report  that  the  taxable 
property  of  Georgia  is  six  hundred  and  seventy  million  dollars  and 
upwards,  —  an  amount  not  far  from  double  what  it  was  in  1850. 
I  think  I  may  venture  to  say  that  for  the  last  ten  years  the  material 
wealth  of  the  people  of  Georgia  has  been  nearly,  if  not  quite, 
doubled.  The  same  may  be  said  of  our  advance  in  education  and 
everything  that  marks  our  civilization.  Have  we  any  assurance 
that  had  we  regarded  the  earnest  but  misguided  patriotic  advice, 
as  I  think,  of  some  of  that  day,  and  disrupted  the  ties  which  bind 
us  to  the  Union,  we  would  have  advanced  as  we  have  ?  I  think 
not.  Well,  then,  let  us  be  careful  now  before  we  attempt  any  rash 
experiment  of  this  sort.  I  know  that  there  are  friends  whose 
patriotism  I  do  not  intend  to  question  who  think  this  Union  a 
curse,  and  that  we  should  be  better  off  without  it.  I  do  not  think 
so ;  if  we  can  bring  about  a  correction  of  those  evils  which 
threaten,  —  and  I  am  not  without  hope  that  this  may  yet  be  done, 
—  this  appeal  to  go  out  with  all  the  promises  for  good  that 
accompany  it,  I  look  upon  as  a  great,  and,  I  fear,  a  fatal  temptation. 

When  I  look  around  and  see  our  prosperity  in  everything,  — 
agriculture,  commerce,  art,  science,  and  every  department  of  prog 
ress,  physical,  moral  and  mental,  —  certainly,  in  the  face  of  such 
an  exhibition,  if  we  can,  without  the  loss  of  power,  or  any  essential 
right  or  interest,  remain  in  the  Union,  it  is  our  duty  to  ourselves 
and  to  posterity  to  do  so.  Let  us  not  unwisely  yield  to  this  temp- 


252  WILLIAM   TAPPAN   THOMPSON 

tation.  Our  first  parents,  the  great  progenitors  of  the  human  race, 
were  not  without  a  like  temptation  when  in  the  garden  of  Eden. 
They  were  led  to  believe  that  their  condition  would  be  bettered, 
that  their  eyes  would  be  opened,  and  that  they  would  become  as 
gods.  They  in  an  evil  hour  yielded,  —  instead  of  becoming  gods 
they  only  saw  their  own  nakedness. 

I  look  upon  this  country  with  our  institutions  as  the  Eden  of 
the  world,  the  Paradise  of  the  universe.  It  may  be  that  out  of  it 
we  may  become  greater  and  more  prosperous  ;  but  I  am  candid  and 
sincere  in  telling  you  that  I  fear  if  we  yield  to  passion,  and  without 
sufficient  cause  shall  take  that  step,  instead  of  becoming  greater, 
more  peaceful,  prosperous,  and  happy,  —  instead  of  becoming  gods, 
we  shall  become  demons,  and  at  no  distant  day  commence  cutting 
one  another's  throats.  This  is  my  apprehension.  Let  us,  there 
fore,  whatever  we  do,  meet  these  difficulties,  great  as  they  are,  like 
wise  and  sensible  men,  and  consider  them  in  the  light  of  all  the 
consequences  which  may  attend  our  action.  Let  us  see  first, 
clearly,  where  the  path  of  duty  leads,  and  then  we  may  not  fear  to 
tread  therein. 


WILLIAM    TAPPAN   THOMPSON 

[WILLIAM  TAPPAN  THOMPSON  was  born  at  Ravenna,  Ohio,  August  31,  1812, 
and  died  in  Savannah,  Georgia,  March  24,  1882.  He  came  of  Virginia  stock 
on  his  father's  side,  lost  both  parents  early,  and  began  life  in  the  employment 
of  the  Philadelphia  Chronicle.  He  went  to  Florida  as  secretary  of  Gov 
ernor  Westcott,  studied  law,  and  settled  at  Augusta,  Georgia,  where  he  was 
associated  with  Judge  Longstreet  (q.v.~)  in  editing  the  Sentinel.  This  asso 
ciation  doubtless  developed  his  bent  as  a  humorist.  After  volunteering  against 
the  Seminoles,  he  established  papers  in  several  towns  in  Georgia,  at  last  win 
ning  notoriety  by  his  amusing  "  Major  Jones's  Letters,"  contributed  to  his  jour 
nal,  the  Miscellany,  of  Madison,  Georgia,  which  he  edited  from  1840  to  1845. 
These  appeared  in  book  form  at  Philadelphia,  as  "  Major  Jones's  Courtship  " 
(1840).  From  1845  to  I^5°  ne  edited  a  weekly  in  Baltimore;  then  he  re 
moved  to  Savannah  and  founded  the  Morning  News,  with  which  he  was  asso 
ciated  until  his  death.  He  served  in  the  Civil  War,  volunteering  for  the  ranks 
in  1864,  in  spite  of  his  age.  After  the  war  he  took  a  slight  share  in  politics. 
Besides  his. most  famous  book  mentioned  above,  he  published  "  Major  Jones's 
Chronicles  of  Pineville  "  (1843),  a  collection  somewhat  modelled  on  "  Georgia 


A  NOVEL   COURTSHIP  2$$ 

Scenes,"  "  Major  Jones's  Sketches  of  Travel "  (1848),  and  "The  Slaveholder 
Abroad  "  ( 1 860) .  He  also  dramatized  successfully  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  " 
and  did  other  work  for  the  stage,  and  edited  a  law  book.  A  posthumous  vol 
ume  of  sketches,  entitled  "John's  Alive,"  appeared  in  1883.  Like  the  other 
early  Southern  and  Southwestern  humorists,  Thompson  is  now  read  only  in  an 
occasional  selection;  but,  like  them,  he  is  important  as  a  precursor  of  the  mod 
ern  local  novelists,  and  is  readable  on  account  of  a  genuine  fund  of  broad, 
wholesome  humor.1] 


A   NOVEL  COURTSHIP 

[FROM  "  MAJOR  JONES'S  COURTSHIP  :  DETAILED,  WITH  OTHER  SCENES,  INCI 
DENTS,  AND  ADVENTURES,  IN  A  SERIES  OF  LETTERS,  BY  HIMSELF." 
SECOND  EDITION,  1844.] 

PINEVILLE,  December  27,  1842. 

To  MR.  THOMPSON  :  Dear  Sir  —  Crismus  is  over,  and  the  thing 
is  ded.  You  know  I  told  you  in  my  last  letter  I  was  gwine  to 
bring  Miss  Mary  up  to  the  chalk  a  Crismus.  Well,  I  done  it,  slick 
as  a  whistle,  though  it  come  mighty  nigh  bein  a  serious  undertakin. 
But  I'll  tell  you  all  about  the  whole  circumstance. 

The  fact  is,  I's  made  my  mind  up  more'n  twenty  times  to  jest 
go  and  come  rite  out  with  the  whole  bisness ;  but  whenever  I  got 
whar  she  was,  and  whenever  she  looked  at  me  with  her  witchin 
eyes,  and  kind  o'  blushed  at  me,  I  always  felt  sort  o'  skeered  and 
fainty,  and  all  what  I  made  up  to  tell  her  was  forgot,  so  I  couldn't 
think  of  it  to  save  me.  But  you's  a  married  man,  Mr.  Thompson, 
so  I  couldn't  tell  you  nothin  about  popin  the  question,  as  they  call 
it.  It's  a  mighty  grate  favor  to  ax  of  a  rite  pretty  gall,  and  to 
people  as  ain't  used  to  it,  it  goes  monstrous  hard,  don't  it?  They 
say  widders  don't  mind  it  no  more'n  nothin.  But  I'm  makin  a 
transgression,  as  the  preacher  ses. 

1  Thompson  is  represented  by  two  short  stories  in  the  collection  of  humorous 
tales  entitled  "  Polly  Peablossom's  Wedding,  and  Other  Tales,"  edited  by  T.  A. 
Burke  (1851)  —  a  volume  dedicated  to  Johnson  J.  Hooper  (g.v.').  The  title-story 
and  another  were  by  the  Hon.  John  B.  Lamar,  of  Georgia;  and  R.  M.  Charlton, 
W.  C.  Richards,  T.  W.  Lane,  and  the  editor  showed  by  their  contributions  that 
Longstreet  and  Thompson  and  Prince  were  by  no  means  the  only  ante-bellum 
Georgians  who  had  the  gift  of  writing  amusing  skits.  There  were  also  funny  stories 
taken  from  the  New  Orleans  Picayune  and  Delta,  and  from  the  St.  Louis  Reveille. 
See  note  2,  p.  271. 


254  WILLIAM  TAPPAN  THOMPSON 

Crismus  eve  I  put  on  my  new  suit,  and  shaved  my  face  as  slick 
as  a  smoothin  iron,  and  after  tea  went  over  to  old  Miss  Stallinses. 
As  soon  as  I  went  into  the  parler  whar  they  was  all  settin  round  the 
fire,  Miss  Carline  and  Miss  Kesiah  both  laughed  rite  out. 

"There,  there,"  ses  they,  "I  told  you  so,  I  knew  it  would  be 
Joseph." 

"What's  I  done,  Miss  Carline?"  ses  I. 

"You  come  under  little  sister's  chicken  bone,  and  I  do  blieve  she 
knew  you  was  comin  when  she  put  it  over  the  dore." 

"  No  I  didn't  —  I  didn't  no  such  thing,  now,"  ses  Miss  Mary,  and 
her  face  blushed  red  all  over. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  deny  it,"  ses  Miss  Kesiah;  "you  b'long  to 
Joseph  now,  jest  as  sure  as  ther's  any  charm  in  chicken  bones." 

I  knowd  that  was  a  first  rate  chance  to  say  something,  but  the 
dear  little  creater  looked  so  sorry  and  kep  blushin  so,  I  couldn't 
say  nothin  zactly  to  the  pint,  so  I  tuck  a  chair  and  reached  up  and 
tuck  down  the  bone  and  put  it  in  my  pocket. 

"What  are  you  gwine  to  do  with  that  old  bone  now,  Majer?" 
ses  Miss  Mary. 

"  I'm  gwine  to  keep  it  as  long  as  I  live,"  ses  I,  "  as  a  Crismus 
present  from  the  handsomest  gall  in  Georgia." 

When  I  sed  that,  she  blushed  worse  and  worse. 

"  Ain't  you  shamed,  Majer?  "  ses  she. 

"  Now  you  ought  to  give  her  a  Crismus  gift,  Joseph,  to  keep  all 
her  life,"  sed  Miss  Carline. 

"  Ah,"  ses  old  Miss  Stallins,  "  when  I  was  a  gall  we  used  to  hang 
up  our  stockins " 


"  Why,  mother  ! "  ses  all  of  'em,  "  to  say  stockins  rite  afore- 


Then  I  felt  a  little  streaked  too,  cause  they  was  all  blushin  as 
hard  as  they  could. 

"  Highty-tity  !  "  ses  the  old  lady  —  "  what  monstrous  'finement. 
I'd  like  to  know  what  harm  ther  is  in  stockins.  People  nowadays 
is  gittin  so  mealy-mouthed  they  can't  call  nothin  by  its  rite  name, 
and  I  don't  see  as  they's  any  better  than  the  old-time  people  was. 
When  I  was  a  gall  like  you,  child,  I  used  to  hang  up  my  stockins 
and  git  'em  full  of  presents." 

The  galls  kep  laughin. 


A  NOVEL    COURTSHIP  255 

"  Never  mind,"  ses  Miss  Mary,  "  Majer's  got  to  give  me  a  Cris- 
mus  gift,  —  won't  you,  Majer  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  ses  I ;  "  you  know  I  promised  you  one." 

" But  I  didn't  mean  that"  ses  she. 

"  I've  got  one  for  you,  what  I  want  you  to  keep  all  your  life,  but 
it  would  take  a  two-bushel  bag  to  hold  it,"  ses  I. 

"  Oh  that's  the  kind,"  ses  she. 

"  But  will  you  keep  it  as  long  as  you  live  ?  "  ses  I. 

"  Certainly  I  will,  Majer." 

"  Monstrous  'finement  nowadays  —  old  people  don't  know  nothin 
bout  perliteness,"  said  old  Miss  Stallins,  jest  gwine  to  sleep  with 
her  nittin  in  her  hand. 

"  Now  you  hear  that,  Miss  Carline,"  ses  I.  "  She  ses  she'll  keep 
it  all  her  life." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  ses  Miss  Mary  —  "  but  what  is  it?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  ses  I,  "  you  hang  up  a  bag  big  enuff  to  hold  it 
and  you'll  find  out  what  it  is,  when  you  see  it  in  the  mornin." 

Miss  Carline  winked  at  Miss  Kesiah,  and  then  whispered  to  her 
—  then  they  both  laughed  and  looked  at  me  as  mischievous  as  they 
could.  They  spicioned  something. 

"You'll  be  sure  to  give  it  to  me  now,  if  I  hang  up  a  bag?  "  ses 
Miss  Mary. 

"  And  promise  to  keep  it,"  ses  I. 

"  Well,  I  will,  cause  I  know  that  you  wouldn't  give  me  nothin 
that  wasn't  worth  keepin." 

They  all  agreed  they  would  hang  up  a  bag  for  me  to  put  Miss 
Mary's  Crismus  present  in,  in  the  back  porch;  and  bout  nine 
o'clock  I  told  'em  good  evenin  and  went  home. 

I  sot  up  till  midnight,  and  when  they  was  all  gone  to  bed  I  went 
softly  into  the  back  gate,  and  went  up  to  the  porch,  and  thar,  shore 
enuff,  was  a  grate  big  meal-bag  hangin  to  the  jice.  It  was  mon 
strous  unhandy  to  git  to  it,  but  I  was  tarmined  not  to  back  out. 
So  I  sot  some  chairs  on  top  of  a  bench  and  got  hold  of  the  rope 
and  let  myself  down  into  the  bag ;  but  jest  as  I  was  gittin  in,  the 
bag  swung  agin  the  chairs,  and  down  they  went  with  a  terrible  racket. 
But  nobody  didn't  wake  up  but  old  Miss  Stallinses  grate  big  cur 
dog,  and  here  he  cum  rippin  and  tearin  through  the  yard  like  rath, 


256  WILLIAM   TAPPAN  THOMPSON 

and  round  and  round  he  went  tryin  to  find  what  was  the  matter. 
I  sot  down  in  the  bag  and  didn't  breathe  louder  nor  a  kitten,  for 
fear  he'd  find  me  out,  and  after  a  while  he  quit  barkin.  The  wind 
begun  to  blow  bominable  cold,  and  the  old  bag  kep  turnin  round 
and  swinging  so  it  made  me  seasick  as  the  mischief.  I  was  fraid 
to  move  for  fear  the  rope  would  break  and  let  me  fall,  and  thar  I 
sot  with  my  teeth  rattlin  like  I  had  a  ager.  It  seemed  like  it 
would  never  come  daylight,  and  I  do  blieve  if  I  didn't  love  Miss 
Mary  so  powerful  I  would  froze  to  death  ;  for  my  hart  was  the  only 
spot  that  felt  warm,  and  it  didn't  beat  more'n  two  licks  a  minit, 
only  when  I  thought  how  she  would  be  sprised  in  the  mornin,  and 
then  it  went  in  a  canter.  Bimeby  the  cussed  old  dog  come  up  on 
the  porch  and  began  to  smell  about  the  bag,  and  then  he  barked 
like  he  thought  he'd  treed  something.  "  Bow  !  wow  !  wow  !  "  ses 
he.  Then  he'd  smell  agin,  arid  try  to  git  up  to  the  bag.  "  Git 
out ! "  ses  I,  very  low,  for  fear  they  would  hear  me.  "  Bow  ! 
wow  !  wow  !  "  ses  he.  "  Be  gone  !  you  bominable  fool !  "  ses  I, 
and  I  felt  all  over  in  spots,  for  I  spected  every  minit  he'd  nip 
me,  and  what  made  it  worse,  I  didn't  know  wharabouts  he'd  take 
hold.  "Bow  !  wow  !  wow  !  "  Then  I  tried  coaxin — "Come  here, 
good  feller,"  ses  I,  and  whistled  a  little  to  him,  but  it  wasn't  no 
use.  Thar  he  stood  and  kep  up  his  eternal  whinin  and  barkin,  all 
night.  I  couldn't  tell  when  daylight  was  breakin,  only  by  the 
chickens  crowin,  and  I  was  monstrous  glad  to  hear  'em,  for  if  I'd 
had  to  stay  thar  one  hour  more,  I  don't  blieve  I'd  ever  got  out  of 
that  bag  alive. 

Old  Miss  Stallins  come  out  fust,  and  as  soon  as  she  saw  the  bag, 
ses  she  : 

"  What  upon  yeath  has  Joseph  went  and  put  in  that  bag  for  Mary? 
I'll  lay  it's  a  yearlin  or  some  live  animal,  or  Bruin  wouldn't  bark  at 
it  so." 

She  went  in  to  call  the  galls,  and  I  sot  thar,  shiverin  all  over  so 
I  couldn't  hardly  speak  if  I  tried  to,  —  but  I  didn't  say  nothin. 
Bimeby  they  all  come  runnin  out. 

"  My  Lord,  what  is  it?  "  ses  Miss  Mary. 

"Oh,  it's  alive  ! "  ses  Miss  Kesiah.     "  I  seed  it  move." 

"Call  Cato,  and  make  him  cut  the  rope,"  ses   Miss  Carline, 


A  NOVEL    COURTSHIP  257 

"and  let's  see  what  it  is.     Come  here,  Cato,  and   git  this  bag 
down." 

"  Don't  hurt  it  for  the  world,"  ses  Miss  Mary. 

Cato  untied  the  rope  that  was  round  the  jice,  and  let  the  bag 
down  easy  on  the  floor,  and  I  tumbled  out  all  covered  with  corn- 
meal,  from  head  to  foot. 

"Goodness  gracious!"  ses  Miss  Mary,  "if  it  ain't  the  Majer 
himself ! " 

"  Yes,"  ses  I,  "  and  you  know  you  promised  to  keep  my  Cris- 
mus  present  as  long  as  you  lived." 

The  galls  laughed  themselves  almost  to  deth,  and  went  to 
brushin  off  the  meal  as  fast  as  they  could,  sayin  they  was  gwine 
to  hang  that  bag  up  every  Crismus  till  they  got  husbands  too. 
Miss  Mary  —  bless  her  bright  eyes  —  she  blushed  as  butiful  as  a 
morninglory,  and  sed  she'd  stick  to  her  word.  She  was  rite  out  of 
bed,'  'and  her  hair  wasn't  komed,  and  her  dress  wasn't  fix't  at  all, 
but  the  way  she  looked  pretty  was  rale  distractin.  I  do  blieve 
if  I  was  froze  stiff,  one  look  at  her  charmin  face,  as  she  stood 
lookin  down  to  the  floor  with  her  rogish  eyes,  and  her  bright  curls 
fallin  all  over  her  snowy  neck,  would  fotch'd  me  too.  I  tell  you 
what,  it  was  worth  hangin  in  a  meal  bag  from  one  Crismus  to 
another  to  feel  as  happy  as  I  have  ever  sense. 

I  went  home  after  we  had  the  laugh  out,  and  set  by  the  fire  till 
I  got  thawed.  In  the  forenoon  all  the  Stallinses  come  over  to 
our  house  and  we  had  one  of  the  greatest  Crismus  dinners  that 
ever  was  seed  in  Georgia,  and  I  don't  blieve  a  happier  company 
ever  sot  down  to  the  same  table.  Old  Miss  Stallins  and  mother 
settled  the  match,  and  talked  over  everything  that  ever  happened 
in  ther  families,  and  laughed  at  me  and  Mary,  and  cried  bout  ther 
ded  husbands,  cause  they  wasn't  alive  to  see  ther  children  married. 

It's  all  settled  now,  'cept  we  hain't  sot  the  weddin  day.  I'd 
like  to  have  it  all  over  at  once,  but  young  galls  always  like  to  be 
engaged  a  while,  you  know,  so  I  spose  I  must  wait  a  month  or  so. 
Mary  (she  ses  I  mustn't  call  her  Miss  Mary  now)  has  been  a  good 
deal  of  trouble  and  botheration  to  me;  but  if  you  could  see  her 
you  wouldn't  think  I  ought  to  grudge  a  little  sufferin  to  git  sich  a 
sweet  little  wife, 
s 


258  ALEXANDER  BEAUFORT  MEEK 

You  must  come  to  the  weddin  if  you  possibly  kin.     I'll  let  you 
know  when.     No  more  from  Your  frend,  till  deth, 

JOS.  JONES.1 


ALEXANDER   BEAUFORT   MEEK 

[ALEXANDER  BEAUFORT  MEEK  was  born  in  Columbia,  South  Carolina, 
July  17,  1814,  and  died  at  Columbus,  Mississippi,  November  30,  1865.  At  an 
early  age  he  removed  with  his  parents  to  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama,  where  he  dis 
played  remarkable  literary  precocity.  He  entered  the  University  of  Alabama 
and  graduated  there  in  1833  >  then  he  studied  law  at  the  University  of 
Georgia  and  took  his  master's  degree.  In  1835  ne  was  admitted  to  the  bar 
of  Alabama,  and  edited  a  paper  at  Tuscaloosa.  At  the  age  of  twenty-two, 
shortly  after  some  volunteer  service  against  the  Seminoles,  he  was  appointed 
attorney-general  during  a  vacancy,  and  six  years  later  a  probate  judge;  but 
he  held  both  positions  only  for  short  periods.  He  had  previously  written 
some  poetry,  contributed  to  magazines,  and  formed  a  literary  friendship  with 
William  Gilmore  Simms  (^.^.).  In  1845  ^e  removed  to  Washington,  to  be 
come  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  but  he  returned  to  Alabama  in  two 
years,  having  been  appointed  district  attorney  for  the  southern  district.  For 
nearly  twenty  years  he  was  a  resident  of  Mobile,  where  he  was  associated  in 
the  editorship  of  the  Register  (1849).  He  was  a  probate  judge  in  1854-1855 
and  also  entered  politics,  being  elected  to  the  legislature  in  1853  and  chosen 
a  presidential  elector  in  1856.  While  in  the  legislature  he  wrote  a  long  and 
able  bill  for  the  establishment  of  free  public  schools,  and  he  is  thus  entitled 
to  be  considered  the  founder  of  the  Alabama  school  system.  In  1859  he  was 
again  elected  to  the  legislature  and  was  made  speaker.  He  took  practically 
no  part  in  the  Civil  War,  save  to  write  some  patriotic  poems.  At  its  close  he 
removed  to  Columbus,  Mississippi,  but  did  not  long  survive  the  change.  His 
work  as  an  author,  irrespective  of  his  fugitive  writings  and  of  some  additions 
to  a  legal  book,  was  known  to  the  country  only  during  the  last  ten  years  of 
his  life,  —  a  fact  which,  in  view  of  the  unsettled  state  of  affairs,  partly  accounts 
for  his  comparative  obscurity  as  a  writer.  In  1855  he  published  "  Red  Eagle," 
a  narrative  poem  in  the  romantic  style,  dealing  with  the  famous  Creek  chief 
tain,  Weathersford.  This  was  Meek's  most  elaborate  poem,  and,  although  a 
failure  as  a  whole,  it  contained  scenes  and  lyrics  of  genuine  poetic  power. 
Two  years  later  (1857)  he  collected  his  miscellaneous  verses  in  "Songs  and 
Poems  of  the  South,"  a  volume  of  uneven  quality,  yet  marked  by  some  good 
work  and  not  a  little  charm.  "  Land  of  the  South,"  "  Girl  of  the  Sunny 

1  The  Major's  letter  of  October  27,  1842,  gives  an  amusing  account  of  his  first 
trip  by  railroad,  which  is  omitted  here  for  lack  of  space. 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  259 

\  • 

South,"  "  Balaklava  "  (attributed,  through  a  freak  signature  by  Meek,  to  the 
English  poet,  Alexander  Smith),  and  "The  Mocking  Bird"  are  poems  that 
attest  their  author's  possession  of  true  if  limited  poetic  talents.  In  1857 
Meek  also  published  a  prose  work,  "  Romantic  Passages  in  Southwestern  His 
tory,"  —  a  volume  of  orations  and  sketches  of  only  fair  merit.  His  interest  in 
local  history  was  further  shown  in  a  "  History  of  Alabama,"  which  was  nearly 
completed  when  the  Civil  War  broke  out  and  still  remains  in  manuscript,  along 
with  an  elaborate  poem.  An  interesting  article  on  Meek's  writings  and  his 
attractive  personal  character  was  furnished  to  The  Sewanee  Review  for 
August,  1896,  by  the  late  Professor  Charles  Hunter  Ross.  This  article,  which 
has  been  utilized  here,  contains  several  of  Meek's  letters  to  Simms.] 


THE  MOCKING   BIRD 

[FROM  "  SONGS  AND  POEMS  OF  THE  SOUTH."    THIRD  EDITION,  1857.] 

FROM  the  vale,  what  music  ringing, 

Fills  the  bosom  of  the  night ; 
On  the  sense,  entranced,  flinging 
Spells  of  witchery  and  delight ! 
O'er  magnolia,  lime  and  cedar, 

From  yon  locust-top,  it  swells, 
Like  the  chant  of  serenader, 
Or  the  rhymes  of  silver  bells  ! 
Listen  !  dearest,  listen  to  it ! 

Sweeter  sounds  were  never  heard  ! 
Tis  the  song  of  that  wild  poet  — 

Mime l  and  minstrel  —  Mocking  Bird. 

See  him,  swinging  in  his  glory, 

On  yon  topmost  bending  limb  ! 
Carolling  his  amorous  story, 

Like  some  wild  crusader's  hymn  ! 
Now  it  faints  in  tones  delicious 

As  the  first  low  vow  of  love  ! 
Now  it  bursts  in  swells  capricious, 

All  the  moonlit  vale  above  ! 
Listen  !  dearest,  etc. 

1  Mimic. 


260  ALEXANDER  BEAUFORT  MEEK 

Why  is't  thus,  this  sylvan  Petrarch 

Pours  all  night  his  serenade? 
Tis  for  some  proud  woodland  Laura, 

His  sad  sonnets  all  are  made  ! 
But  he  changes  now  his  measure  — 

Gladness  bubbling  from  his  mouth  — 
Jest,  and  gibe,  and  mimic  pleasure  — 

Winged  Anacreon  of  the  South  ! 
Listen !  dearest,  etc. 

Bird  of  music,  wit  and  gladness, 

Troubadour  of  sunny  climes, 
Disenchanter  of  all  sadness,  — 

Would  thine  art  were  in  my  rhymes. 
O'er  the  heart  that's  beating  by  me, 

I  would  weave  a  spell  divine ; 
Is  there  aught  she  could  deny  me, 

Drinking  in  such  strains  as  thine  ? 
Listen  !  dearest,  etc. 


BALAKLAVA1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

OH,  the  Charge  at  Balaklava  ! 

Oh,  that  rash  and  fatal  Charge  ! 
Never  was  a  fiercer,  braver, 
Than  that  Charge  at  Balaklava, 

On  the  battle's  bloody  marge  ! 
All  the  day,  the  Russian  columns, — 

Fortress  huge,  and  blazing  banks,  — - 
Poured  their  dread  destructive  volumes 

On  the  French  and  English  ranks  — 

On  the  gallant  allied  ranks  ! 

1  Compare  with  the  poem  on  the  same  event  by  James  Barren  Hope  (q.v.)  and 
with  Tennyson's  more  famous  lyric. 


BALAKLAVA  26 1 

Earth  and  sky  seemed  rent  asunder 

By  the  loud  incessant  thunder ! 

When  a  strange,  but  stern  command,  — 

Needless,  heedless,  rash  command,  — 

Came  to  Nolan's l  little  band,  — 
Scarce  six  hundred  men  and  horses 
Of  those  vast  contending  forces,  — 
"  England's  lost !  oh,  charge  and  save  her  — 
Charge  the  pass  of  Balaklava  !  " 

Oh,  that  rash  and  fatal  Charge, 
On  the  battle's  bloody  marge  ! 

Far  away  the  Russian  Eagles 

Soar  o'er  smoking  hill  and  dell, 
And  their  hordes,  like  howling  beagles, 

Dense  and  countless,  'round  them  yell ! 
Thundering  cannon,  deadly  mortar 
Sweep  the  field  on  every  quarter  ! 
Never,  since  the  days  of  Jesus, 
Trembled  so  the  Chersonesus  ! 2 
Here  behold  the  Gallic  Lilies,  — 
Stout  St.  Louis' 3  golden  Lilies  !  — 
Float  as  erst  at  old  Ramillies  ! 4  — 
And,  beside  them,  lo  !  the  Lion,  — 
England's  proud  unconquered  Lion  !  — 
With  her  trophied  Cross,  is  flying. 
Glorious  standards  !  shall  they  waver 
On  the  field  of  Balaklava? 
No,  by  heaven  !  at  that  command,  — 

1  Lewis  Edward  Nolan  (i82o?-i854).     He  served  in  India  and  in  the  Crimean 
War,  and,  as  captain  of  the  Fifteenth  Hussars,  carried  the  order  which,  owing  to  a 
misunderstanding,  resulted  in  the  famous  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade.      He  was 
shot  while  striving  to  divert  the  brigade.     He  was  the  author  of  two  books  dealing 
with  the  cavalry  service. 

2  I.e.  land-island,  or  peninsula,  a  term  applied  by  the  Greeks  to  several  impor 
tant  peninsulas.    Here  the  reference  is  to  the  Tauric  Chersonese,  i.e.  the  Crimea. 

3  I.e.  King  Louis  IX  of  France  (1215-1270). 

4  Marlborough  won  this  famous  victory  over  the  French  on  May  23,  1706. 


262  ALEXANDER  BEAUFORT  MEEK 

Sudden,  rash,  but  stern  command,  — 

Charges  Nolan's  little  band  ! 

Brave  Six  Hundred  !  lo  !  they  charge 
On  the  battle's  bloody  marge  ! 

Down  yon  deep  and  skirted  valley, 
Where  the  crowded  cannon  play,  — 
Where  the  Czar's  fierce  cohorts  rally, 
Cossack,  Kalmuck,  savage  Kalli,  — 

Down  that  gorge  they  sweep  away  ! 
Down  that  new  Thermopylae, 
Flashing  swords  and  helmets,  see  ! 
Underneath  the  iron  shower, 

To  the  brazen  cannon's  jaws, 
Heedless  of  their  deadly  power, 

Press  they  without  fear  or  pause,  — 

To  the  very  cannon's  jaws  ! 
Gallant  Nolan,  brave  as  Roland * 

At  the  field  of  Roncesvalles, 

Dashes  down  the  fatal  valley, 
Dashes  on  the  bolt  of  death, 
Shouting  with  his  latest  breath, 
"  Charge  them,  gallants  !  do  not  waver, 
Charge  the  pass  of  Balaklava  !  " 

Oh,  that  rash  and  fatal  Charge, 
On  the  battle's  bloody  marge  ! 

Now  the  bolts  of  vollied  thunder 
Rend  that  little  band  asunder. 
Steed  and  rider  wildly  screaming, 

Screaming  wildly,  sink  away, — 
Late  so  proudly,  proudly  gleaming. 

Now  but  lifeless  clods  of  clay,  — 

Now  but  bleeding  clods  of  clay  ; 

1  The  famous  paladin  of  Charlemagne,  and  the  hero  of  the  old  French  epic, 
"  The  Song  of  Roland."  He  commanded  the  rear-guard  at  Roncesvalles  (a  valley 
in  Navarre),  and  was  cut  down  in  the  defeat  of  Charlemagne's  troops  by  the 
Mohammedans  and  their  allies  (in  778) . 


BALAKLA  VA  263 

Never  since  the  days  of  Jesus, 
Saw  such  sight,  the  Chersonesus  ! 
Yet  your  remnant,  brave  Six  Hundred, 
Presses  onward,  onward,  onward. 

Till  they  storm  the  bloody  pass,  — 

Till,  like  brave  Leonidas, 

They  storm  the  deadly  pass  ! 
Sabering  Cossack,  Kalmuck,  Kalli, 
In  that  wild  shot-rended  valley,  — 
Drenched  with  fire  and  blood,  like  lava, 
Awful  pass  of  Balaklava  ! 

Oh,  that  rash  and  fatal  Charge, 
On  the  battle's  bloody  marge  ! 

For  now  Russia's  rallied  forces,  — 
Swarming  hordes  of  Cossack  horses, 
Trampling  o'er  the  reeking  corses,  — 

Drive  the  thinned  assailants  back, 

Drive  the  feeble  remnant  back  ! 

O'er  their  late  heroic  track  ! 
Vain,  alas  !     Now  rent  and  sundered, 
Vain  your  struggles,  brave  Six  Hundred  ! 
Half  your  numbers  lie  asleep, 
In  that  valley  dark  and  deep. 
Weak  and  wounded  you  retire 
From  that  hurricane  of  fire,  — 
That  tempestuous  storm  of  fire  ! 
But  no  soldiers,  firmer,  braver, 

Ever  trod  a  field  of  fame, 
Than  the  Knights  of  Balaklava,  — 

Honor  to  each  hero's  name  ! 
Yet  their  country  long  shall  mourn 
For  her  ranks  so  rashly  shorn,  — 
So  gallantly  but  madly  shorn, 

In  that  fierce  and  fatal  Charge, 
On  the  battle's  bloody  marge. 


264  ALEXANDER  BEAUFORT  MEEK 

LAND  OF  THE   SOUTH 
[FROM  THE  SAME.   PART  OF  A  LONGER  POEM,  "  THE  DAY  OF  FREEDOM."] 


LAND  of  the  South  !  —  imperial  land  !  — 

How  proud  thy  mountains  rise  !  — 
How  sweet  thy  scenes  on  every  hand  ! 

How  fair  thy  covering  skies  ! 
But  not  for  this,  —  oh,  not  for  these, 

I  love  thy  fields  to  roam,  — 
Thou  hast  a  dearer  spell  to  me,  — 

Thou  art  my  native  home  1 


Thy  rivers  roll  their  liquid  wealth, 

Unequalled  to  the  sea,  — 
Thy  hills  and  valleys  bloom  with  health, 

And  green  with  verdure  be  ! 
But,  not  for  thy  proud  ocean  streams, 

Not  for  thine  azure  dome,  — 
Sweet,  sunny  South  !  —  I  cling  to  thee,  — 

Thou  art  my  native  home  ! 

ra 

I've  stood  beneath  Italia' s  clime, 

Beloved  of  tale  and  song,  — 
On  Helvyn's  hills,1  proud  and  sublime, 

Where  nature's  wonders  throng ; 
By  Tempe's2  classic  sunlit  streams, 

Where  Gods,  of  old,  did  roam,  — 
But  ne'er  have  found  so  fair  a  land 

As  thou  —  my  native  home  ! 
1  Switzerland.  2  The  famous  Thessalian  vale. 


LAND   OF  THE  SOUTH  26$ 


IV 

And  thou  hast  prouder  glories  too, 

Than  nature  ever  gave,  — 
Peace  sheds  o'er  thee,  her  genial  dew, 

And  Freedom's  pinions  wave,  — 
Fair  science  flings  her  pearls  around, 

Religion  lifts  her  dome,  — 
These,  these  endear  thee,  to  my  heart,  — 

My  own,  loved  native  home  ! 


And  "heaven's  best  gift  to  man  " *  is  thine, 

God  bless  thy  rosy  girls  !  — 
Like  sylvan  flowers,  they  sweetly  shine,  — 

Their  hearts  are  pure  as  pearls  ! 
And  grace  and  goodness  circle  them, 

Where'er  their  footsteps  roam,  — 
How  can  I  then,  whilst  loving  them, 

Not  love  my  native  home  ! 


VI 

Land  of  the  South  !  —  imperial  land  !  — 

Then  here's  a  health  to  thee,  — 
Long  as  thy  mountain  barriers  stand, 

May'st  thou  be  blessed  and  free  !  — 
May  dark  dissension's  banner  ne'er 

Wave  o'er  thy  fertile  loam,  — 
But  should  it  come,  there's  one  will  die, 

To  save  his  native  home  ! 

l  Cf.  "  Paradise  Lost,"  V.  18  (Weber). 


266  JOSEPH  GLOVER  BALDWIN 


JOSEPH   GLOVER   BALDWIN 

[JOSEPH  GLOVER  BALDWIN  was  born  of  good  English  stock  at  Friendly 
Grove  Factory,  near  Winchester,  Virginia,  in  January,  1815,  and  died  at  San 
Francisco,  California,  September  30,  1864.  After  a  somewhat  limited  educa 
tion  and  a  little  study  of  Blackstone,  he  resolved  to  try  his  fortunes  as  a  lawyer 
in  the  Southwest,  then  a  promising  field  for  the  profession.  Accordingly  in 
1836  he  set  out  on  his  pony,  with  a  pair  of  saddle  bags,  and  after  a  long 
journey  he  settled  in  De  Kalb,  Kemper  County,  Mississippi.  He  made  a  success 
ful  start  in  his  first  case  and  was  soon  rewarded  with  a  good  practice.  In  two 
years,  however,  it  seemed  best  for  him  to  remove  to  Gainesville,  Alabama,  a 
prosperous  town  in  a  state  which  had  been  chiefly  settled  from  Virginia.  In 
"  The  Flush  Times  "  much  litigation  was  indulged  in  by  large  and  small  slave 
holders  and  land  speculators,  and  as  a  result  very  able  lawyers  were  attracted 
to  the  Southwest.  Among  these  men  Baldwin  held  his  own,  and,  although  his 
party  was  not  popular,  he  was  elected  to  the  legislature  as  a  Whig  in  1843. 
Six  years  later  he  was  an  unsuccessful  candidate  for  Congress,  and  in  1850  he 
removed  to  Livingston.  Meanwhile  he  had  made  full  use  of  his  opportunities 
to  play  the  observer  in  a  new  country  filled  with  settlers  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  The  result  was  the  best  book  of  humorous  sketches  written  in  the 
ante-bellum  South,  the  well-known  "  Flush  Times  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi," 
which  appeared  in  1853.  In  broad  humor  Baldwin  was  probably  inferior  to 
Longstreet  (^.^.)  and  to  William  Tappan  Thompson  (^.z>.),  but  in  sympa 
thetic  description  and  in  delicate  literary  qualities  he  was  superior  to  both. 
In  1855  he  published  "  Party  Leaders,"  in  which  he  sketched  in  a  readable 
fashion  and  with  not  a  little  acumen  the  careers  of  Jefferson,  Hamilton,  Jackson, 
Clay,  and  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke.  Meanwhile  he  had  removed  to  Mobile 
and  thence  in  1854  to  California,  where  he  seemed  to  have  more  chance  of 
political  preferment  and  where  another  era  of  excitement  and  speculation  on 
a  larger  scale  doubtless  made  him  feel  young  once  more.  In  1858  he  was 
elected  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  California.  He  resigned  the  position  in  a 
little  over  three  years  and  resumed  his  practice.  Shortly  before  his  death  from 
lockjaw  he  went  to  Washington  and  tried  to  secure  permission  to  visit  his 
parents  in  Virginia,  but  the  authorities,  in  view  of  the  war  then  raging,  denied 
his  request.  The  best  account  of  his  interesting  career  is  that  by  Professor 
George  Frederick  Mellen,  published  in  The  Sewanee  Review  for  April,  1901. 
From  the  opinions  of  contemporaries  such  as  General  Reuben  Davis,1  it 

1 "  Recollections  of  Mississippi  and  Mississippians  "  (1891),  pp.  60-64. 


THE    VIRGINIAN  IN  THE  SOUTHWEST  267 

would  appear  that  the  author  of  "  The  Flush  Times  "  exhibited  in  his  conver 
sation  and  manners  much  of  the  sympathy  and  humor  that  make  his  chief 
book  engaging.] 


THE   VIRGINIAN  IN  THE   SOUTHWEST1 

[FROM  "THE  FLUSH  TIMES  OF  ALABAMA  AND  MISSISSIPPI:  A  SERIES 
OF  SKETCHES,"  1853.] 

SUPERIOR  to  many  of  the  settlers  in  elegance  of  manners  and 
general  intelligence,  it  was  the  weakness  of  the  Virginian  to 
imagine  he  was  superior  too  in  the  essential  art  of  being  able 
to  hold  'his  hand  and  make  his  way  in  a  new  country,  and  espe 
cially  such  a  country,  and  at  such  a  time.  What  a  mistake  that 
was  !  The  times  were  out  of  joint.  It  was  hard  to  say  whether 
jt  were  more  dangerous  to  stand  still  or  to  move.  If  the  emi 
grant  stood  still,  he  was  consumed,  by  no  slow  degrees,  by 
expenses ;  if  he  moved,  ten  to  one  he  went  off  in  a  galloping 
consumption,  by  a  ruinous  investment.  Expenses  then  —  neces 
sary  articles  about  three  times  as  high,  and  extra  articles  still  more 
extra-priced  —  were  a  different  thing  in  the  new  country  from 
what  they  were  in  the  old.  In  the  old  country,  a  jolly  Virginian, 
starting  the  business  of  free  living  on  a  capital  of  a  plantation  and 
fifty  or  sixty  negroes,  might  reasonably  calculate,  if  no  ill-luck  befell 
him,  by  the  aid  of  a  usurer  and  the  occasional  sale  of  a  negro,  or 
two,  to  hold  out  without  declared  insolvency  until  a  green  old  age. 
His  estate  melted  like  an  estate  in  chancery,  under  the  gradual 
thaw  of  expenses ;  but  in  this  fast  country  it  went  by  the  sheer 
cost  of  living,  —  some  poker  losses  included,  —  like  the  fortune  of 
the  confectioner  in  California,  who  failed  for  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  the  six  months'  keeping  of  a  candy-shop.  But  all  the 
habits  of  his  life,  his  taste,  his  associations,  his  education,  —  every 
thing  ;  the  trustingness  of  his  disposition,  his  want  of  business  quali 
fications,  his  sanguine  temper,  all  that  was  Virginian  in  him,  made 
him  the  prey,  if  not  of  imposture,  at  least  of  unfortunate  specula 
tions.  Where  the  keenest  jockey  often  was  bit,  what  chance  had 

1  From  the  fourth  sketch,  "  How  the  Times  Served  the  Virginians,  etc."  Some 
of  the  sketches  were  first  published  in  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger. 


268  JOSEPH  GLOVER  BALDWIN 

he  ?  About  the  same  that  the  verdant  Moses  had  with  the  ven 
erable  old  gentleman,  his  father's  friend,  at  the  fair,  when  he 
traded  the  Vicar's  pony  for  the  green  spectacles.  But  how 
could  he  believe  it?  How  could  he  believe  that  that  stuttering, 
grammarless  Georgian,  who  had  never  heard  of  the  Resolutions  of 
'98,  could  beat  him  in  a  land  trade?  "  Have  no  money  dealings 
with  my  father,''  said  the  friendly  Martha  to  Lord  Nigel ; 2  "  for, 
idiot  though  he  seems,  he  will  make  an  ass  of  thee."  What  a  pity 
some  monitor,  equally  wise  and  equally  successful  with  old  Trap- 
bois's  daughter,  had  not  been  at  the  elbow  of  every  Virginian! 
"Twad  frae  monie  a  blunder  free'd  him,  an'  foolish  notion."3 

If  he  made  a  bad  bargain,  how  could  he  expect  to  get  rid  of  it  ? 
He  knew  nothing  of  the  elaborate  machinery  of  ingenious  chicane, 
such  as  feigning  bankruptcy,  fraudulent  conveyances,  making  over 
to  his  wife,  running  property ;  and  had  never  heard  of  such  tricks 
of  trade  as  sending  out  coffins  to  the  graveyard,  with  negroes  in 
side,  carried  off  by  sudden  spells  of  imaginary  disease,  to  be  "  resur 
rected"  in  due  time,  grinning,  on  the  banks  of  the  Brazos. 

The  new  philosophy,  too,  had  commended  itself  to  his  specula 
tive  temper.  He  readily  caught  at  the  idea  of  a  new  spirit  of  the 
age  having  set  in,  which  rejected  the  saws  of  Poor  Richard4  as 
being  as  much  out  of  date  as  his  almanacs.  He  was  already,  by 
the  great  rise  of  property,  compared  to  his  condition  under  the 
old-time  prices,  rich ;  and  what  were  a  few  thousands  of  debt, 
which  two  or  three  crops  would  pay  off,  compared  to  the  value 
of  his  estate?  (He  never  thought  that  the  value  of  property 
might  come  down,  while  the  debt  was  a  fixed  fact.)  He  lived 
freely,  for  it  was  a  liberal  time,  and  liberal  fashions  were  in  vogue, 
and  it  was  not  for  a  Virginian  to  be  behind  others  in  hospitality  and 
liberality.  He  required  credit  and  security,  and  of  course  had  to 
stand  security  in  return.  When  the  crash  came,  and  no  "  accom 
modations  "  could  be  had,  except  in  a  few  instances,  and  in  those 

1  See  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  Chap.  XII. 

2  See  Scott's  "  Fortunes  of  Nigel,"  Vol.  II,  Chap.  V  (Andrew  Lang  Edition),  but 
Baldwin  apparently  quoted  from  memory. 

8  Adapted  from  the  last  stanza  of  Burns's  "  To  a  Louse." 

4  I.e.,  the  proverbs  given  in  the  almanacs  issued  by  Benjamin  Franklin.  They 
purported  to  be  compiled  by  Richard  Saunders. 


A    TRIBUTE    TO  HENRY  CLAY  269 

on  the  most  ruinous  terms,  he  fell  an  easy  victim.  They  broke  by 
neighborhoods.  They  usually  indorsed  for  each  other,  and  when 
one  fell  —  like  the  child's  play  of  putting  bricks  on  end  at  equal 
distances,  and  dropping  the  first  in  the  line  against  the  second, 
which  fell  against  the  third,  and  so  on  to  the  last  —  all  fell ;  each 
got  broke  as  security,  and  yet  few  or  none  were  able  to  pay  their 
own  debts  !  So  powerless  of  protection  were  they  in  those  times 
that  the  witty  H.  G.  used  to  say  they  reminded  him  of  an  oyster, 
both  shells  torn  off,  lying  on  the  beach,  with  the  sea-gulls  scream 
ing  over  them ;  the  only  question  being  which  should  "  gobble 
them  up." 


A  TRIBUTE  TO   HENRY   CLAY 
[FROM  "PARTY  LEADERS,"   1855.] 

AND  thou  art  gone  from  our  midst,  gallant  Henry  Clay  !  and  the 
world  seems  drearier  than  before  !  Who  thinks  of  thee  as  of  an 
old  man  gradually  going  out  of  life  by  wasting  and  decay ;  as  one, 
who,  in  the  eclipse  or  helplessness,  of  physical  and  mental  energies, 
sinks  to  his  last  sleep  and  rest?  No  !  thou  seemest  ever  young; 
ever  buoyant  with  a  vigorous  and  impulsive  manhood ;  vital  with 
irrepressible  energies,  and  glowing  with  Life  and  Hope  and  Love ; 
as  if  all  noble  feelings  and  all  lofty  thoughts  were  busy  in  thy  heart 
and  brain,  claiming  from  lips  and  eyes  eloquent  utterance.  We 
could  bear  to  hear  of  thy  dying  thus,  though  with  many  a  sharp 
pang  of  sorrow,  and  many  a  thought  of  sadness  mingled  with  pride 
and  love.  But  what  friend  of  thine  could  bear  to  contemplate 
thee  living  —  yet  receding  from  life ;  the  noble  form  bowed  down ; 
the  lofty  crest  palsied  and  lowered ;  the  glorious  intellect  passing 
into  thick-coming  darkness,  and  bursting  only  in  fitful  blaze,  if 
ever,  into  the  life  and  light  of  thy  old  eloquence ;  the  buoyant  step 
now  halting  on  the  crutches  of  senility ;  words,  peevish  and  gar 
rulous,  profaning  the  tongue  that  once  held  senates  in  transported 
audience;  and  rayless  and  vacant  now,  the  bold  and  glittering 
eye,  that  awed  and  commanded  strong  men  like  a  king?  Who 
could  have  borne  to  see  thee  the  wreck  of  thy  former  self,  nothing 


JOHNSON  JONES  HOOPER 

remaining  but  the  contrast  of  present  nothingness  with  past  gran 
deur  and  glory  !  We  were  spared  that  spectacle  ;  for  it  was  merci 
fully  granted  to  thy  prayers  to  spring  out  of  mortal  life  at  once, 
with  unwasted  energies,  into  the  blaze  of  immortality  ! 

Why  pursue  further  the  theme?  The  grass  is  just  growing  green 
on  the  sod  above  him ;  and  the  words  of  eulogy  and  the  deep  wail 
of  a  nation  are  almost  yet  stirring  the  air.  He  died  bravely  as  he 
had  lived.  He  had  lived  out  his  term  and  worked  out  faithfully 
his  time ;  and  now  the  Republic  mourns  throughout  her  wide 
borders,  and  will  honor  till  its  last  stone  be  removed,  the  greatest 
orator,  and,  except  Washington,  the  wisest  stateman  and  most  use 
ful  citizen  this  country  ever  called  into  her  service. 

And  so  the  long  feud  ended,  and  the  leaders'  fight  is  over.  The 
old  Knights  died  in  harness  and  were  buried  with  the  honors  of 
war,  and  chivalrous  enemies  do  homage  to  their  graves. 

"  The  good  Knights  are  dust, 
And  their  good  swords  are  rust 
And  their  souls  are  with  the  saints  we  trust." l 


JOHNSON  JONES   HOOPER 

[JOHNSON  JONES  HOOPER  was  born  in  North  Carolina  in  June,  1815,  and 
died  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  June  7,  1862.  When  he  was  quite  young  he 
removed  to  Alabama,  where  he  became  an  editor  of  newspapers  both  in  the 
country  and  in  Montgomery.  He  was  for  many  years  a  solicitor  of  the  ninth 
circuit.  In  the  Civil  War  he  was  secretary  of  the  provisional  Confederate 
Congress  both  at  Montgomery  and  at  Richmond,  and  also  private  secretary  to 
Leroy  P.  Walker,  the  Confederate  Secretary  of  War.  Like  his  fellow-humorists 
Longstreet  (g.v.}  and  Thompson  (?.».),  he  contributed  his  amusing  sketches  to 
one  of  his  newspapers.  In  March,  1845,  ne  wrote  from  La  Fayette,  Chambers 

l  From  Coleridge's  "  The  Knight's  Tomb,"  but  very  probably  taken  by  Baldwin 
from  the  eighth  chapter  of  "  Ivanhoe,"  where  it  is  quoted,  without  verbal  but  with  un 
mistakable  reference  to  Coleridge.  Baldwin  plainly  quoted  from  memory,  inserting 
"  good  "  in  the  first  line  and  "  And  "  in  the  second.  Scott's  version  differs  from 
the  close  of  Coleridge's  poem,  which  runs  — 

"  The  Knight's  bones  are  dust, 
And  his  good  sword  rust ;  — 
His  soul  is  with  the  saints,  I  trust."  (Aldine  Edition.) 


JOHNSON  JONES  HOOPER  2/1 

County,  Alabama,  a  preface  for  the  work  that  has  kept  his  name  alive, "  Some 
Adventures  of  Captain  Simon  Suggs,  late  of  the  Tallapoosa  Volunteers; 
together  with  '  Taking  the  Census '  and  other  Alabama  Sketches.  By  a 
Country  Editor"  (Philadelphia,  1846) .*  The  main  portion  of  this  little 
book  consists  of  twelve  chapters  which  describe  in  ironic  fashion  the  career 
of  as  thorough  a  rascal  as  ever  figured  in  "  The  Flush  Times."  Since  the  ironic 
masterpieces  of  Fielding  and  Thackeray  have  never  been  popular,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  Hooper's  biography  of  a  card  sharper  and  general  "dead-beat," 
and  his  pictures  of  the  early  Southwest,  have  passed  from  public  notice,  or  that 
Thackeray,  appreciating  qualities  akin  to  his  own,  should  have  praised  the 
book;  but  while  Hooper's  work  does  not  deserve  the  praise  we  willingly  give  to 
that  of  Judge  Baldwin  (^.^.),  it  would  be  unjust  not  to  remember  him  as  one 
of  the  best  of  the  early  American  humorists.  "  Taking  the  Census  "  shows  his 
ability  for  broad  farce;  a  later  volume,  "  Widow  Rugby's  Husband,2  and  other 
Tales  of  Alabama  "  (1851),  is  not  so  successful.3] 

*The  volume  seems  really  to  have  been  issued  in  1845.  There  was  a  new  edition 
in  1881.  Hooper  is  said  in  "  Lamb's  Biographical  Dictionary  "  to  have  been  the 
editor  of  the  Chambers  County  Times,  the  Alabama  Journal,  and  the  Montgomery 
Mail.  The  name  of  the  paper,  however,  to  which  he  contributed  parts  of  "  Simon 
Suggs "  seems  to  have  been  the  East  Alabamian,  if  we  may  rely  on  the  "  auto 
graphic  letter  from  Suggs,"  printed  in  the  last  chapter.  Portions  of  the  worthy 
Captain's  adventures  were  published  in.  the  New  York  Spirit  of  the  Times,  and  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  notice  that  Hooper  left  his  hero  running  for  the  office  of 
sheriff.  "  He  waxes  old.  He  needs  an  office,  the  emoluments  of  which  shall 
be  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  relax  his  intellectual  exertions.  His  military  services ; 
his  numerous  family ;  his  long  residence  among  you ;  his  gray  hairs  —  all  plead  for 
him  !  Remember  him  at  the  polls !  " 

2  This  tale  and  "  Capt.  M'Spaddan  "  can  be  found  in  W.  E.  Burton's  "  Cyclo 
paedia  of  Wit  and  Humor"  (1858),  where  the  reader  will  also  find  specimens 
of  the  work  of  Longstreet,  Thompson,  John  B.  Lamar,  etc.,  as  well  as  Hamilton 
C.  Jones's  once  popular  North  Carolina  skit,  "  Cousin  Polly  Dillard." 

8  Hooper  contributed  a  tale  to  the  volume  already  mentioned,  "  Polly  Peablos- 
som's  Wedding."  (See  note  p.  253.)  A  full  and  careful  study  of  this  and  other 
volumes  of  ante-bellum  humor  is  much  to  be  desired.  The  newspapers  of  the  time 
were  very  hospitable  to  short  funny  stories  —  for  example;  the  St.  Louis  Reveille, 
founded  by  the  actor,  Joseph  M.  Field  (1810-56),  the  New  Orleans  Picayune, 
founded  in  1837  by  George  W.  Kendall,  another  humorist,  the  New  Orleans  Delta, 
etc.  The  New  York  Spirit  of  the  Times,  the  first  sporting  journal  in  the  United 
States,  established  in  1831  by  William  T.  Porter  (1809-58),  was  a  favorite  medium 
of  publication  for  the  humorists.  Albert  Pike  (q.v.)  and  Hooper  and  many  other 
Southern  writers  contributed  to  it,  and  Porter  collected  three  volumes  of  sketches  in 
which  the  South  had  a  large  share.  One  of  these  volumes  was  included  in  "  Colo 
nel  Thorpe's  Scenes  in  Arkansaw"  (1858),  a  collection  which  took  its  name 
from  Thomas  B.  Thorpe  (1815-78),  who  edited  The  Spirit  of  the  Times  after 
Porter,  but  had  before  been  known  for  humorous  stories  written  when  he  was  an 
editor  in  Louisiana.  (See  Griswold's  "  Prose  Writers  of  America,"  pp.  546-549.) 


2/2  JOHNSON  JONES  HOOPER 

THE   HERO   DESCRIBED1 
[FROM  "SOME  ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN  SIMON   SUGGS,"  ETC.,  1846.] 

THE  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  which,  with  the  physical 
proportions  we  have  endeavored  to  portray,  make  up  the  entire 
entity  of  Captain  Suggs,  may  be  readily  described.  His  whole 
ethical  system  lies  snugly  in  his  favorite  aphorism  — "  IT  IS 
GOOD  TO  BE  SHIFTY  IN' A  NEW  COUNTRY"  — which 
means  that  it  is  right  and  proper  that  one  should  live  as  merrily 
and  as  comfortably  as  possible  at  the  expense  of  others ;  and  of 
the  practicability  of  this  in  particular  instances,  the  Captain's 
whole  life  has  been  a  long  series  of  the  most  convincing  illustra 
tions.  But  notwithstanding  this  fundamental  principle  of  Cap 
tain  Suggs's  philosophy,  it  were  uncandid  not  to  say  that  his 
actions  often  indicate  the  most  benevolent  emotions ;  and  there 
are  well-authenticated  instances  within  our  knowledge,  wherein 
he  has  divided  with  a  needy  friend  the  five  or  ten  dollar  bill 
which  his  consummate  address  had  enabled  him  to  obtain  from 
some  luckless  individual,  without  the  rendition  of  any  sort  of 
equivalent,  excepting  only  solemnly  reiterated  promises  to  repay 
within  two  hours,  at  farthest.  To  this  amiable  trait,  and  his 
riotous  good-fellowship,  the  Captain  is  indebted  for  his  great 
popularity  among  a  certain  class  of  his  fellow-citizens  —  that  is, 
the  class  composed  of  the  individuals  with  whom  he  divides  the 
bank  bills,  and  holds  his  wild  nocturnal  revelries. 

The  shifty  Captain  Suggs  is  a  miracle  of  shrewdness.  He 
possesses,  in  an  eminent  degree,  that  tact  which  enables  man 
to  detect  the  soft  spots  in  his  fellow,  and  to  assimilate  himself  to 
whatever  company  he  may  fall  in  with.  Besides,  he  has  a  quick, 
ready  wit,  which  has  extricated  him  from  many  an  unpleasant 
predicament,  and  which  makes  him  whenever  he  chooses  to  be 
so  —  and  that  is  always  —  very  companionable.  In  short,  nature 

1  It  is  worth  noting  that  one  of  Baldwin's  sketches  in  "  Flush  Times  "  is  entitled : 
"Simon  Suggs,  Jr.,  Esq.:  A  Legal  Biography."  The  son  was  worthy  of  the 
father. 


MILITIA    COSTUMES  IN   THE  "FLUSH  TIMES"      273 

gave  the  Captain  the  precise  intellectual  outfit  most  to  be  desired 
by  a  man  of  his  propensities.  She  sent  him  into  the  world  a  sort 
of  he- Pallas,  ready  to  cope  with  his  kind,  from  his  infancy,  in  all 
the  arts  by  which  men  "get  along"  in  the  world;  if  she  made 
him,  in  respect  to  his  moral  conformation,  a  beast  of  prey,  she 
did  not  refine  the  cruelty  by  denying  him  the  fangs  and  the  claws. 


MILITIA  COSTUMES   IN  THE   "FLUSH   TIMES" 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

IT  was  with  extreme  difficulty  that  the  Captain  arranged  his  cos 
tume  to  his  own  satisfaction,  and  made  it  befitting  so  solemn  and 
impressive  an  occasion.1  After  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  however, 
he  did  contrive  to  cut  a  somewhat  military  figure.  With  a  sword 
he  was  already  "  indifferently  well  "  provided  ;  having  found  one 
—  rusty  and  without  a  scabbard  —  somewhere  about  the  premises. 
This  he  buckled,  or  rather  tied  to  his  side  with  buckskin  strings. 
He  wore  at  the  time  the  identical  blue  jeans  frock-coat  which  has 
since  become  so  familiar  to  the  people  of  Tallapoosa — it  was  then 
new,  but  on  this  there  were,  of  course,  no  epaulettes.  Long  time 
did  Captain  Suggs  employ  himself  in  devising  expedients  to  supply 
the  deficiency.  At  length  he  hit  it.  His  wife  had  a  large  crimson 
pin-cushion,  and  this  he  fastened  upon  his  left  shoulder,  having 
first  caused  some  white  cotton  fringe  to  be  attached  to  the  outward 
edge.  In  lieu  of  crimson  sash,  he  fastened  around  his  waist  a 
bright-red  silk  handkerchief,  with  only  a  few  white  spots  on  it. 
And  this  was  an  admirable  substitute,  except  that  it  was  almost 
too  short  to  tie  before,  and  exhibited  no  inconsiderable  portion 
of  itself  in  a  depending  triangle  behind.  The  chapeau  now  alone 
remained  to  be  managed.  This  was  easily  done.  Two  sides  of 
the  brim  of  his  capacious  beaver  were  stitched  to  the  body  of  the 
hat,  and  at  the  fastening  on  the  left  side,  Mrs.  Suggs  sewed  a  cock 
ade  of  red  ferreting,  nearly  as  big  as  the  bottom  of  a  saucer.  Thus 
imposingly  habited  —  and  having  first  stuffed  the  legs  of  his  pan- 

1  They  were  going  to  try  by  martial  law  an  old  woman  who  had  involuntarily 
broken  the  rules  of  the  fort. 


2/4  JOHNSON  JONES  HOOPER 

taloons  into  the  tops  of  a  very  antique  pair  of  boots  —  Captain 
Simon  Suggs  went  forth. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  enclosure,  and  standing  near  an  empty 
whiskey  barrel,  was  Lieutenant  Snipes.  He  had  not  been  so  suc 
cessful  as  the  Captain  in  the  matter  of  his  toilette.  Around  his 
black  wool  hat  was  pasted,  or  stitched,  a  piece  of  deep  purple 
gilt  paper,  such  as  is  often  found  upon  bolts  of  linen.  Upon  this 
was  represented  a  battle  between  a  lion  and  a  unicorn ;  and  in  a 
scroll  above  were  certain  letters  which,  as  Lieutenant  Snipes  him 
self  remarked,  "didn't  spell  nothing"  —  at  least,  nothing  that  he 
could  comprehend.  In  his  hand  was  the  handle  of  a  hoe,  armed 
at  one  extremity  with  a  rusty  bayonet  —  the  only  weapon  of  its 
kind,  at  that  moment,  to  be  found  in  the  whole  garrison  of  Fort 
Suggs.  Equipped  thus,  and  provided  with  a  dirty  sheet  of  paper, 
a  portable  inkstand,  (containing  poke-berry  juice,)  and  the  stump 
of  a  pen  —  all  of  which  were  upon  the  head  of  the  barrel  —  the 
doughty  Lieutenant  awaited  the  moment  when  it  should  plea'se 
Captain  Suggs  to  arraign  the  prisoner  and  proceed  with  the  trial. 


AN   INTRACTABLE  OLD   WOMAN 
[FROM  THE  SAME,  "  TAKING  THE  CENSUS."] 

WE  rode  up  one  day  to  the  residence  of  a  widow  rather  past  the 
prime  of  life — just  that  period  at  which  nature  supplies  most 
abundantly  the  oil  which  lubricates  the  hinges  of  the  female  tongue 
—  and  hitching  to  the  fence,  walked  into  the  house. 

"  Good  morning,  madam,"  said  we,  in  our  usual  bland,  and 
somewhat  insinuating  manner. 

"  Mornin',"  said  the  widow  gruffly. 

Drawing  our  blanks  from  their  case,  we  proceeded  —  "  I  am  the 
man,  madam,  that  takes  the  census,  and  —  " 

"  The  mischief  you  are  !  "  said  the  old  termagant.  "  Yes,  I've 
hearn  of  you ;  Parson  W.  told  me  you  was  coming,  and  I  told 
him  jist  what  I  tell  you,  that  if  you  said  'cloth,'  'soap,'  ur 
'  chickens,'  to  me,  I'd  set  the  dogs  on  ye.  —  Here,  Bull !  here, 
Pomp  ! "  Two  wolfish  curs  responded  to  the  call  for  Bull  and 


AN  INTRACTABLE   OLD    WOMAN  2/5 

Pomp,  by  coming  to  the  door,  smelling  at  our  feet  with  a  slight 
growl,  and  then  laid  [sic]  down  on  the  steps.  "  Now,"  continued 
the  old  she-savage,  "  them's  the  severest  dogs  in  this  country. 
Last  week  Bill  Stonecker's  two-year-old  steer  jumped  my  yard- 
fence,  and  Bull  and  Pomp  tuk  him  by  the  throat,  and  they  killed 
him  afore  my  boys  could  break  'em  loose,  to  save  the  world." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  we,  meekly ;  "  Bull  and  Pomp  seem  to  be 
very  fine  dogs." 

"  You  may  well  say  that :  what  I  tells  them  to  do  they  do  —  and 
if  I  was  to  sick  them  on  your  old  hoss  yonder,  they'd  eat  him  up 
afore  you  could  say  Jack  Roberson.  And  it's  jist  what  I  shall  do, 
if  you  try  to  pry  into  my  consarns.  They  are  none  of  your  busi 
ness,  nor  Van  Buren's  nuther,  I  reckon.  Oh,  old  Van  Banburen  ! 
I  wish  I  had  you  here,  you  old  rascal !  7'd  show  you  what  —  I'd 
—  I'd  make  Bull  and  Pomp  show  you  how  to  be  sendin'  out  men 
to  take  down  what  little  stuff  people's  got,  jist  to  tax  it,  when  it's 
taxed  enough  a'ready  !  " 

All  this  time  we  were  perspiring  through  fear  of  the  fierce 
guardians  of  the  old  widow's  portal.  At  length,  when  the  widow 
paused,  we  remarked  that  as  she  was  determined  not  to  answer 
questions  about  the  produce  of  the  farm,  we  would  just  set  down 
the  age,  sex,  and  complexion  of  each  member  of  her  family. 

"  No  sich  a  thing  —  you'll  do  no  sich  a  thing,"  said  she  ;  "  I've 
got  five  in  family,  and  that's  all  you'll  git  from  me.  Old  Van 
Buren  must  have  a  heap  to  do,  the  dratted  old  villyan,  to  send 
you  to  take  down  how  old  my  children  is.  I've  got  five  in  family, 
and  they  are  all  between  five  and  a  hundred  years  old;  .  .  . 
and  whether  they  are  he  or  she,  is  none  of  your  consarns." 

We  told  her  we  would  report  her  to  the  marshal,  and  she  would 
be  fined  :  but  it  only  augmented  her  wrath. 

"  Yes  !  send  your  marshal,  or  your  Mr.  Van  Buren  here,  if 
you're  bad  off  to  —  let  'em  come  —  let  Mr. 'Van  Buren  come  "  — 
looking  as  savage  as  a  Bengal  tigress  —  "Oh,  I  wish  he  would 
come  "  —  and  her  nostrils  dilated,  and  her  eyes  gleamed  —  "  I'd 
cut  his  head  off !  " 

"  That  might  kill  him,"  we  ventured  to  remark,  by  way  of  a 
joke. 


2/6  PHILIP  PENDLETON  COOKE 

"  Kill  him  !  kill  him  —  oh  —  if  I  had  him  here  by  the  years  I 
reckon  I  would  kill  him.  A  pretty  fellow  to  be  eating  his  vittils 
out'n  gold  spoons1  that  poor  people's  taxed  for,  and  raisin'  an 
army  to  get  him  made  king  of  Ameriky — rthe  oudacious,  nasty, 
stinking  old  scamp  !  "  She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  resumed, 
"  And  now,  mister,  jist  put  down  what  I  tell  you  on  that  paper, 
and  don't  be  telling  no  lies  to  send  to  Washington  city.  Jist  put 
down  '  Judy  Tompkins,  ageable  woman,  and  four  children.'  " 

We  objected  to  making  any  such  entry,  but  the  old  hag  vowed 
it  should  be  done,  to  prevent  any  misrepresentation  of  her  case. 
We,  however,  were  pretty  resolute,  until  she  appealed  to  the 
couchant  whelps,  Bull  and  Pomp.  At  the  first  glimpse  of  their 
teeth,  our  courage  gave  way,  and  we  made  the  entry  in  a  bold 
hand  across  a  blank  schedule  —  "  Judy  Tompkins,  ageable  woman, 
and  four  children." 


PHILIP  PENDLETON  COOKE 

[PHILIP  PENDLETON  COOKE  was  born  in  Martinsburg,  Virginia  (now  in 
West  Virginia),  October  26,  1816,  and  died  at  "The  Vineyard,"  Clarke  County, 
Virginia,  January  20,  1850.  He  was  the  son  of  a  distinguished  Virginia  lawyer, 
John  Rogers  Cooke,  and  an  elder  brother  of  the  romancer  John  Esten  Cooke 
(<?.^.).  He  was  also  a  cousin  of  the  romancer  John  Pendleton  Kennedy  (^.z'.)- 
He  graduated  at  Princeton  in  1834,  studied  law  with  his  father,  and  began  to 
practise  in  1836.  His  two  main  delights,  however,  were  literature  and 
hunting,  as  any  reader  of  his  single  book,  "  Froissart  Ballads,  and  Other 
Poems"  (Philadelphia,  1847),  must  a^  once  perceive.  Especially  after  his 
removal  in  1845  to  an  estate  in  Clarke  County,  he  could  and  did  indulge 
his  taste  for  hunting  to  the  full,  but  like  most  Southerners  of  his  time  he 
had  little  incentive  to  become  a  professional  author,  and  he  is  rather  to  be 
regarded  as  a  cultivated  amateur.  He  wrote  several  prose  romances, 
which  were  published  in  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger1*1  (1848-50),  and 

1  See  page  114,  note  2. 

2  The  titles  of  his  romances,  none  of  which  appeared  in  book   form,  are  "John 
Carper,  the  Hunter  of  Lost  River,"  "  The  Two  Country  Houses,"  "  The  Gregories 
of   Hackwood,"   "Joseph  Jenkins's    Researches    into  Antiquity  :    Erisichthon," 
"The  Crime  of  Andrew  Blair,"  and  "Chevalier  Merlin"  (unfinished).    See  an 
article  upon  him  in  Vol.  XXVI  of  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger. 


THE  MOUNTAINEER  2JJ 

lyrics,  like  "  Florence  Vane,"  "  Rosalie  Lee,"  and  "  To  My  Daughter  Lily," 
which  were  very  popular;  yet  one  feels  that  he  should  have  done  much  more 
than  this.  He  had  a  genuine  love  for  mediaeval  literature  (though  there  is 
not  a  great  deal  of  Froissart  in  the  "Ballads"),  a  true  sense  for  the  beauty 
and  freedom  of  nature,  and  a  certain  freshness  and  sincerity  of  poetic  inspira 
tion.  He  could  never  have  rivalled  Poe,  who  praised  his  work  and  corre 
sponded  with  him  ;  but  probably  if  he  had  really  made  literature  a  profession, 
he  would  be  known  to-day  as  more  than  a  one-poem  poet.  As  it  is,  the  lyric 
Lowell  praised,  "  Florence  Vane,"  which  has  been  translated  into  several 
languages,  alone  keeps  Cooke's  name  from  oblivion,  so  far  as  concerns  the 
general  public.] 

THE   MOUNTAINEER 

[FROM  "  FROISSART  BALLADS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS,"  1847.    EXTRACT  FROM 
THE  POEM  "THE  MOUNTAINS."] 

JUST  now  no  whisper  of  the  air 
Awoke,  or  wandered,  anywhere 
In  all  that  scene  so  wild  and  fair. 

But  hark  !  upborne  by  swift  degrees, 
Come  forth  the  mountain  melodies  — 
The  music  of  the  wind-tost  trees. 

And,  startled  by  these  utterings, 
The  parted  leaves,  like  living  things, 
Skirl  up,  and  flock  on  shining  wings. 

And,  rising  from  the  rainbow  rout, 
A  hawk  goes  swooping  round  about  — 
And  hark !  a  rifle-shot,  and  shout. 

The  rifle  of  the  mountaineer  — 

I  know  its  tongue,  so  quick  and  clear  — 

Is  out,  to-day,  against  the  deer. 

Right  hardy  are  the  men,  I  trow, 
Who  build  upon  the  mountain's  brow, 
And  love  the  gun,  and  scorn  the  plough. 


278  PHILIP  PENDLETON  COOKE 

Not  such  soft  pleasures  pamper  these 
As  lull  the  subtil  Bengalese, 
Or  islanders  of  Indian  seas. 

A  rugged  hand  to  cast  their  seed  — 

A  rifle  for  the  red  deer's  speed  — 

With  these  their  swarming  huts  they  feed. 

Such  men  are  freedom's  body  guard ; 
On  their  high  rocks,  so  cold  and  hard, 
They  keep  her  surest  watch  and  ward. 


FLORENCE  VANE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  LOVED  thee  long  and  dearly, 

Florence  Vane  ; 
My  life's  bright  dream,  and  early, 

Hath  come  again ; 
I  renew,  in  my  fond  vision, 

My  heart's  dear  pain, 
My  hope,  and  thy  derision, 

Florence  Vane. 

The  ruin  lone  and  hoary, 

The  ruin  old, 
Where  thou  didst  hark  my  story, 

At  even  told,  — 
That  spot  —  the  hues  Elysian 

Of  sky  and  plain  — 
I  treasure  in  my  vision, 

Florence  Vane. 

Thou  wast  lovelier  than  the  roses 

In  their  prime ; 
Thy  voice  excelled  the  closes 

Of  sweetest  rhyme ; 


THE  ART  OF  THE  POET  2?$ 

Thy  heart  was  as  a  river 

Without  a  main. 
Would  I  had  loved  thee  never, 

Florence  Vane  1 

But,  fairest,  coldest  wonder ! 

Thy  glorious  clay 
Lieth  the  green  sod  under  — 

Alas  the  day ! 
And  it  boots  not  to  remember 

Thy  disdain  — 
To  quicken  love's  pale  ember, 

Florence  Vane. 

The  lilies  of  the  valley 

By  young  graves  weep, 
The  pansies  love  to  dally 

Where  maidens  sleep ; 
May  their  bloom,  in  beauty  vying, 

Never  wane 
Where  thine  earthly  part  is  lying, 

Florence  Vane  1 


THE  ART   OF   THE   POET 

[FROM  THE  SAME.  THE  EXTRACT  is  THE  CONCLUSION  OF  A  POEM  ENTITLED 
"THE  POWER  OF  THE  BARDS."] 

AND  owe  we  not  these  visions 

Fresh  to  the  natural  eye  — 
This  presence  in  old  story  — 

To  the  good  art  and  high  ?  — 

The  high  art  of  the  poet, 

The  maker  of  the  lays  ? 
Doth  not  his  magic  lead  us 

Back  to  the  ancient  days  ? 


28O  THEODORE  O'HARA 

For  evermore  be  honoured 
The  voices  sweet,  and  bold, 

That  thus  can  charm  the  shadows 
From  the  true  life  of  old. 


THEODORE   O'HARA 

[THEODORE  O'HARA,  the  son  of  an  Irish  gentleman  who  came  to  America 
as  a  political  exile,  was  born  in  Danville,  Kentucky,  February  n,  1820,  and 
died  near  Guerryton,  Alabama,  June  6,  1867.  After  the  family  removed  to 
Frankfort,  he  was  prepared  by  his  father,  who  taught  a  school,  to  enter 
St.  Joseph's  College  at  Bardstown,  where  he  did  so  well  that  he  was  asked  to 
take  charge  of  the  classes  in  Greek.  Then  he  studied  law  and  was  admitted  to 
the  bar  in  1842,  but  in  three  years  he  obtained  a  post  in  the  Treasury  Depart 
ment  at  Washington.  Just  before  he  took  this  post  he  witnessed  the  re-inter 
ment,  at  Frankfort,  of  Daniel  Boone  and  his  wife,  and  was  inspired  to  write 
"  The  Old  Pioneer."  He  took  part  in  the  Mexican  War,  at  the  beginning  of 
hostilities,  as  captain  of  volunteers,  and  for  gallant  conduct  was  brevetted 
major  on  the  field  of  Churubusco.  Before  the  war  was  ended,  the  remains 
of  the  Kentucky  soldiers  who  had  fallen  at  Buena  Vista  were  brought  back 
to  their  native  state,  and  in  memory  of  the  occasion  O'Hara,  in  the  autumn 
of  1847,  wrote  his  "  Bivouac  of  the  Dead,"  the  poem  which  has  preserved  his 
name.  After  the  Mexican  War  he  practised  in  Washington,  and  was  an  editor 
in  Frankfort ;  but  he  could  not  resist  the  temptations  of  a  life  of  action,  and 
he  joined  the  filibustering  expedition  of  Lopez  to  Cuba,  during  which  he  was 
wounded.  This  did  not  discourage  him  from  joining  Walker  in  his  Nicaragua 
expedition  or  from  entering  the  Second  United  States  Cavalry  as  captain 
(1855),  which  gave  him  service  in  Texas  against  the  Indians.  Later  he  edited 
the  Mobile  Register  (1857-1860),  and  he  formed  a  company  of  dragoons  as 
early  as  November,  1860,  for  service  in  the  war  which  he  saw  to  be  inevitable. 
He  had  long  and  hard  service  in  the  Civil  War  both  as  colonel  of  an  Alabama 
regiment  and  as  staff  officer.  After  the  war  he  went  into  the  cotton  business 
at  Columbus,  Georgia,  but  was  ruined  by  a  fire,  whereupon  he  removed  to  a 
near-by  plantation  in  Alabama,  and  here  he  died  shortly  afterward.  In  1874 
the  legislature  of  Kentucky  took  measures  to  convey  his  body  to  that  state 
and  to  bury  it  by  the  side  of  the  comrades  whose  dirge  he  had  sung.  See 
for  the  most  correct  text  of  O'Hara's  two  poems  and  the  fullest  account 
of  his  life,  "The- Bivouac  of  the  Dead  and  Its  Author"  (1898),  by  the  late 
George  W.  Ranck,  of  Kentucky,  who  unselfishly  devoted  much  time,  labor, 
and  expense  to  preserving  and  extending  O'Hara's  fame.1] 

1  See  also  an  article  on  O'Hara  by  Daniel  E.  O'Sullivan  in  The  Southern 
Bivouac  for  January,  1887.  This  paper  is  specially  interesting  for  its  discussion 


THE  BIVOUAC  OF  THE  DEAD  28 1 


THE  BIVOUAC  OF  THE  DEAD1 

THE  muffled  drum's  sad  roll  has  beat 

The  soldier's  last  tattoo  ; 
No  more  on  life's  parade  shall  meet 

The  brave  and  daring  few. 
On  Fame's  eternal  camping-ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  Glory  guards  with  solemn  round 

The  bivouac  of  the  dead. 

No  rumor  of  the  foe's  advance 

Now  swells  upon  the  wind ; 
No  troubled  thought  at  midnight  haunts 

Of  loved  ones  left  behind  ; 
No  vision  of  the  morrow's  strife 

The  warrior's  dream  alarms  ; 
No  braying  horn  nor  screaming  fife 

At  dawn  shall  call  to  arms. 

Their  shivered  swords  are  red  with  rust, 

Their  plumed  heads  are  bowed ; 
Their  haughty  banner  trailed  in  dust 

Is  now  their  martial  shroud, 
And  plenteous  funeral  tears  have  washed 

The  red  stains  from  each  brow, 
And  their  proud  forms  in  battle  gashed 

Are  free  from  anguish  now. 


of  the  text  of  "The  Bivouac  of  the  Dead."  It  may  be  remarked  that  "The  Old 
Pioneer  "  is  the  only  other  poem  of  O'Hara's  that  is  known,  and  that  some  question 
has  been  raised  as  to  its  authorship.  Robert  Burns  Wilson,  the  Kentucky  poet, 
contributed  a  paper  on  O'Hara  to  The  Century  for  May,  1890. 

1  The  text  is  that  of  the  volume  mentioned  above  and  is  copyrighted.  It  is 
reproduced  here  through  the  kindness  of  Mrs.  George  W.  Ranck,  of  Wilming 
ton,  N.C. 


282  THEODORE   O'HARA 

The  neighing  steed,  the  flashing  blade, 

The  trumpet's  stirring  blast, 
The  charge,  the  dreadful  cannonade, 

The  din  and  shout  are  past ; 
No  war's  wild  note,  nor  glory's  peal, 

Shall  thrill  with  fierce  delight 
Those  breasts  that  nevermore  shall  feel 

The  rapture  of  the  fight. 

Like  the  dread  northern  hurricane 

That  sweeps  his  broad  plateau, 
Flushed  with  the  triumph  yet  to  gain 

Came  down  the  serried  foe ; l 
Our  heroes  felt  the  shock,  and  leapt 

To  meet  them  on  the  plain  ; 
And  long  the  pitying  sky  hath  wept 

Above  our  gallant  slain. 

Sons  of  our  consecrated  ground, 

Ye  must  not  slumber  there, 
Where  stranger  steps  and  tongues  resound 

Along  the  heedless  air. 
Your  own  proud  land's  heroic  soil 

Shall  be  your  fitter  grave  ; 
She  claims  from  War  his  richest  spoil  — 

The  ashes  of  her  brave. 

So  'neath  their  parent  turf  they  rest, 

Far  from  the  gory  field  ; 
Borne  to  a  Spartan  mother's  breast 

On  many  a  bloody  shield  ; 
The  sunshine  of  their  native  sky 

Smiles  sadly  on  them  here, 
And  kindred  hearts  and  eyes  watch  by 

The  heroes'  sepulchre. 

l  From  this  point  the  text  of  the  poem  as  usually  given  is  so  different  as  to 
require  its  insertion  in  an  appendix. 


HENRY  ROOTES  JACKSON  283 

Rest  on,  embalmed  and  sainted  dead ! 

Dear  as  the  blood  you  gave, 
No  impious  footsteps  here  shall  tread  * 

The  herbage  of  your  grave  ; 
Nor  shall  your  glory  be  forgot 

While  Fame  her  record  keeps, 
Or  Honor  points  the  hallowed  spot 

Where  Valor  proudly  sleeps. 

Yon  marble  minstrel's  voiceless  stone 

In  deathless  songs  shall  tell, 
When  many  a  vanished  age  hath  flown, 

The  story  how  ye  fell ; 
Nor  wreck,  nor  change,  or  winter's  blight 

Nor  Time's  remorseless  doom, 
Shall  dim  one  ray  of  holy  light 

That  gilds  your  glorious  tomb. 


HENRY    ROOTES  JACKSON 

[HENRY  ROOTES  JACKSON,  of  English  descent,  the  son  of  a  Georgia  educator 
and  nephew  of  James  Jackson,  a  prominent  Georgia  soldier  and  statesman  of 
the  Revolutionary  period,  was  born  in  Athens,  Georgia,  June  24,  1820,  and  died 
in  Savannah,  May  23, 1898.  He  graduated  at  Yale  in  1839,  was  admitted  to  the 
Georgia  bar  the  next  year,  was  soon  appointed  United  States  district  attorney, 
and  during  the  Mexican  War  was  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  Georgia  volunteers. 
Two  or  three  of  his  best  poems  were  inspired  by  his  military  experiences  and 
were  published  in  a  volume  entitled  "  Tallulah,  and  Other  Poems  "  (Savannah, 
1850, l  but  printed  in  New  York).  Meanwhile,  after  some  editing,  he  became, 
in  1849,  judge  of  the  Superior  Court  of  the  Eastern  Circuit,  Georgia,  a  position 
which  he  resigned  in  1853  to  become  charge  d'affaires  and  afterward 
minister  to  Austria.  He  resigned  this  post  in  1858,  engaged  in  important 
legal  work  for  the  government,  then  joined  the  Confederate  army  as  briga 
dier-general.  In  1864  he  and  his  command  were  taken  prisoners  at  the  battle 
of  Nashville.  After  his  release  he  practised  law  in  Savannah,  where  he  took 
much  interest  in  education  and  in  advancing  the  study  of  Georgia  history. 
In  1885  he  was  appointed  by  President  Cleveland  minister  to  Mexico,  but 

1  Many  accounts  of  his  life  erroneously  give  1851. 


2 84  HENR  Y  ROO TES  JA  CKSON 

soon  resigned  the  place.  His  single  volume  of  poems  has  been  but  little 
read.  The  "  Red  Old  Hills  of  Georgia  "  is  somewhat  known  in  the  South, 
and,  as  a  foot-note  will  show,  the  simple,  touching  lyric, "  My  Wife  and  Child," 
has  had  a  curious  fate.  His  more  elaborate  poems  are  imitative  and  of 
slight  consequence,  but  his  devotion  to  his  state  make  his  simple  verses 
readable,  and  in  some  cases,  as  in  the  lines  "  To  the  Chattahoochee  River," 
he  not  only  reminds  one  of  the  earlier  Mirabeau  B.  Lamar,  but  makes  one 
think  of  that  later  and  more  gifted  Georgia  poet,  Lanier.  No  later  poet, 
however,  shows  in  all  probability  such  a  sense  of  the  mastery  of  Byron,  though, 
to  tell  the  whole  truth,  Longfellow  and  Tennyson  had  also  made  their  way  into 
our  Southern  colonel's  library.  His  "  Haroun  Alraschid"  is  a  plain  echo  of  the 
English  poet.  It  is  partly  because  General  Jackson  represents  so  excellently  the 
type  of  poet  the  Old  South  was  likely  to  produce  —  an  amateur  quick  to  feel 
both  the  poetic  instinct  and  the  influence  of  other  poets,  content  with  an 
occasional  poem  or  a  single  volume,  and  thenceforth  prone  to  lead  a  life  of 
culture  rather  than  of  creative  activity  —  that  it  is  desirable  to  give  his  work 
a  place  in  a  collection  like  the  present.  ] 


THE   RED   OLD   HILLS    OF   GEORGIA 

[FROM    "TALLULAH,   AND    OTHER   POEMS,"    1850.] 

THE  red  old  hills  of  Georgia ! 

So  bald,  and  bare,  and  bleak  — 
Their  memory  fills  my  spirit 

With  thoughts  I  cannot  speak. 
They  have  no  robe  of  verdure, 

Stript  naked  to  the  blast ; 
And  yet,  of  all  the  varied  earth, 

I  love  them  best  at  last. 

I  love  them  for  the  pleasure 

With  which  my  life  was  blest, 
,     When  erst  I  left,  in  boyhood, 

My  footsteps  on  their  breast. 
When  in  the  rains  had  perished 

Those  steps  from  plain  and  knoll, 
Then  vanished,  with  the  storm  of  grief, 

Joy's  foot-prints  from  my  soul ! l 
l  This  stanza  is  omitted  from  the  poem  as  now  usually  printed. 


THE  RED   OLD  HILLS   OF  GEORGIA  28$ 

The  red  old  hills  of  Georgia ! 

My  heart  is  on  them  now  ; 
Where,  fed  from  golden  streamlets, 

Oconee's  waters  flow ! 
I  love  them  with  devotion, 

Though  washed  so  bleak  and  bare  ;  — 
Oh  ! J  can  my  spirit  e'er  forget 

The  warm  hearts  dwelling  there  ? 

I  love  them  for  the  living, — 

The  generous,  kind,  and  gay ; 
And  for  the  dead  who  slumber 

Within  their  breasts 2  of  clay. 
I  love  them  for  the  bounty, 

Which  cheers  the  social  hearth  ; 
I  love  them  for  their  rosy  girls  — 

The  fairest  on  the  earth  ! 

The  red  old  hills  of  Georgia ! 

Oh ! 3  where,  upon  the  face 
Of  earth,  is  freedom's  spirit 

More  bright  in  any  race  ?  — 
In  Switzerland  and  Scotland 

Each  patriot  breast  it  fills, 
But  oh ! 4  it  blazes  brighter  yet 

Among  our  Georgia  hills  ! 

And  where,  upon  their  surface, 

Is  heart  to  feeling  dead  ?  — 
Oh  ! 5  when  has  needy  stranger 

Gone  from  those  hills  unfed  ? 
There  bravery  and  kindness, 

For  aye,  go  hand  in  hand, 

1  Later  versions  read  •'  How." 

2  Printed  "  breast "  in  Weber's  "  Southern  Poets." 
8  Later  versions  read  "  When." 

4  Later  versions  read  "  sure." 
6  Later  versions  read  "  And." 


286  HENR  Y  ROO TES  JA  CKSON 

Upon  your  washed  and  naked  hills, 
"  My  own,  my  native  land  !  " 1 

The  red  old  hills  of  Georgia 

I  never  can  forget ; 
Amid  life's  joys  and  sorrows, 

My  heart  is  on  them  yet ;  — 
And  when  my  course  is  ended, 

When  life  her  web  has  wove, 
Oh !  may  I  then,  beneath  those  hills, 

Lie  close  to  them  I  love  ! 


MY  WIFE  AND   CHILD2 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  tattoo  beats ;  —  the  lights  are  gone ;  — 
The  camp  around  in  slumber  lies ;  — 

The  night,  with  solemn  pace,  moves  on ;  — 
The  shadows  thicken  o'er  the  skies  ;  — 

But  sleep  my  weary  eyes  hath  flown, 
And  sad,  uneasy  thoughts  arise. 

I  think  of  thee,  oh  !  dearest  one  1 

Whose  love  mine  early  life  hath  blest ;  — 

Of  thee  and  him  —  our  baby  son  — 
Who  slumbers  on  thy  gentle  breast ;  — 

God  of  the  tender,  frail,  and  lone, 
Oh  !  guard  that  little  sleeper's  rest ! 

1  Cf.  Scott's  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  VI,  i,  3. 

2  In  "  War  Lyrics  and  Songs  of  the  South,"  London,  1866,  this  poem  is  wrongly 
attributed  to  General  J.  T.  [T.  J.]  Jackson,  while  an  officer  in  Mexico.    In  Mason's 
"Southern  Poems  of  the  War"  (1867)  it  is  entitled  "My  Father"  (the  name  of 
another  but  entirely  unmartial  poem  by  General  Jackson),  and  is  evidently  sup 
posed  to  have  been  written  during  the  later  struggle.    The  confusion,  according  to 
Mr.  James  Wood  Davidson,  originated  in  the  Confederate  newspapers,  and  if  one 
of  them  had  only  attributed  the  verses  to  Andrew  Jackson,  the  cup  of  error  would 
have  been  filled. 


MY   WIFE  AND   CHILD  287 

And  hover,  gently  hover  near 

To  her,  whose  watchful  eye  is  wet  — 

The  mother,  wife,  the  doubly  dear, 

In  whose  young  heart  have  freshly  met 

Two  streams  of  love  so  deep  and  clear  — 
And  cheer  her  drooping  spirit  yet ! 

Now,  as  she  kneels  before  thy  throne, 
Oh  !  teach  her,  Ruler  of  the  skies  ! 

That  while,  by  thy  behest  alone, 

Earth's  mightiest  powers  fall  or  rise, 

No  tear  is  wept  to  thee  unknown, 
Nor  hair  is  lost,  nor  sparrow  dies ! 

That  thou  canst  stay  the  ruthless  hand 
Of  dark  disease,  and  soothe  its  pain  ; 

That  only  by  thy  stern  command 
The  battle's  lost,  the  soldier's  slain ; 

That  from  the  distant  sea  or  land 

Thou  bring'st  the  wanderer  home  again  ! 

And  when  upon  her  pillow  lone 

Her  tear-wet  cheek  is  sadly  press'd, 

May  happier  visions  beam  upon 

The  brightening  currents  of  her  breast,  — 

Nor  frowning  look,  nor  angry  tone, 
Disturb  the  sabbath  of  her  rest  1 

Whatever  fate  those  forms  may  throw,1 
Loved  with  a  passion  almost  wild  — 

By  day,  by  night  —  in  joy,  or  woe  — 

By  fears  oppressed,  or  hopes  beguiled  — 

From  every  danger,  every  foe, 

Oh  1  God  !  protect  my  wife  and  child  ! 

Camargo,  Mexico,  1846. 

1  This  is  given  as  "  show  "  in  some  versions.    Many  other  variations  occur  in 
different  versions,  but  it  is  not  worth  while  to  record  them. 


288  WILLIAM  HENRY  TRESCOT 


WILLIAM   HENRY  TRESCOT 

[WILLIAM  HENRY  TRESCOT  was  born  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina$ 
November  10,  1822,  and  died  at  Pendleton,  South  Carolina,  March  4,  1898. 
He  graduated  at  the  College  of  Charleston  in  1840,  then  studied  law  and  was 
admitted  to  the  bar,  but  also  engaged  in  cotton  planting.  He  early  devoted 
himself  to  studying  the  diplomatic  history  of  the  United  States,  issuing  a  mono 
graph  on  the  country's  foreign  policy  in  1849.  Three  years  later  he  published 
his  "  Diplomacy  of  the  Revolution  "  and  became  secretary  of  legation  in  Lon 
don,  a  post  he  soon  resigned.  After  some  other  publications  in  his  special 
field  he  continued  "  The  Diplomacy  of  the  Revolution  "  with  his  "  Diplomatic 
History  of  the  Administrations  of  Washington  and  Adams,"  which,  writing  on 
his  own  birthday  from  his  home  at  Barnwell  Island,  South  Carolina,  he  dedi 
cated,  in  1857,  to  the  Honorable  Edward  Everett,  of  Massachusetts.  On  June  8, 
1860,  he  became  for  a  few  months  Assistant  Secretary  of  State,  a  position  in 
which  he  is  said  to  have  acted  as  agent  for  the  purchase  of  arms  by  South 
Carolina.  During  the  Civil  War  he  was  a  member  of  the  legislature  of  his 
native  state  and  had  a  staff  position.  He  also  conducted  for  the  Confederate 
government,  with  agents  of  France  and  Great  Britain,  negotiations  looking  to 
the  adhesion  of  the  Confederacy  to  the  Declaration  of  Paris  of  1856,  save 
with  respect  to  the  first  article.  After  the  war  he  represented  South  Carolina 
in  Washington  in  connection  with  questions  arising  under  Reconstruction 
legislation.  After  the  inauguration  of  Hayes  and  the  emergence  of  the 
South  from  political  impotence,  he  was  considerably  employed  in  diplomatic 
matters  by  the  general  government.  He  served  as  counsel  before  the  Hali 
fax  Commission  of  1877,  and  went  to  China  as  a  member  of  the  special  com 
mission  which  negotiated  the  treaties  of  1880.  In  1881  he  was  employed  by 
Secretary  Elaine  as  special  envoy  to  certain  belligerent  South  American 
states.  In  1882-1883  ne  was  a  plenipotentiary  with  General  Grant  to  negotiate 
a  commercial  treaty  with  Mexico,  which,  however,  was  never  carried  into 
effect.  During  Cleveland's  first  administration  he  practised  law  in  Washing 
ton.  The  return  of  Mr.  Elaine  to  the  Department  of  State,  in  1889,  gave  Tres- 
cot  fresh  employment;  for  example,  he  was  one  of  the  American  delegates  in 
the  International  American  Conference  at  Washington,  in  1889-1890.  Differ 
ences  of  opinion  between  Mr.  Elaine  and  himself  in  regard  to  the  treatment 
of  international  claims  led  to  Trescot's  retirement  from  public  service;  but  he 
still  acted  as  counsel  against  foreign  governments  in  certain  private  cases,  in 
one  of  which  he  obtained  a  fee  that  enabled  him  to  fit  up  his  old  island  home, 
where  he  passed  his  declining  years.  With  the  exception  of  a  memoir  of 


PATRIOTIC  DIPLOMATS   OF    THE  REVOLUTION    289 

General  Johnson  Pettigrew  (1870)  and  memorial  addresses,  such  as  the  excel 
lent  one  on  General  Stephen  Elliott,  delivered  before  the  South  Carolina  legis 
lature  in  September,  1866,  he  wrote  little  after  his  volume  of  1857;  but  he 
deserves  to  be  remembered  among  Southern  writers  not  only  for  his  impor 
tance  as  a  pioneer  in  our  diplomatic  history,  but  also  for  his  general  culture 
and  his  ability  on  occasions  to  attain  a  style  of  dignity  and  eloquence.1] 


THE   PATRIOTIC  DIPLOMATS   OF   THE   REVOLUTION 

[FROM  "THE  DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    AN  HISTORICAL 
STUDY,"  1852.] 

.  .  .  AND  in  that  proud  circle  of  famous  warriors  and  great 
civilians  which  illustrates  the  history  of  the  United  States,  none 
should  stand  in  brighter  light  than  the  diplomatists  of  the  revolu 
tion.  They  were,  more  particularly  than  any  others,  the  represen 
tatives  of  the  nation  in  perilous  times.  Far  from  home,  unsustained 
by  sympathy,  their  labors  hidden  from  the  popular  eye,  surrounded 
by  perplexities  which  none  but  themselves  could  fully  know ;  simple 
men  in  the  midst  of  courtly  splendor,  watched  by  ambassadors  of 
old  and  haughty  States,  sometimes  with  jealousy  sometimes  with 
hate,  treated  now  with  patronizing  pity,  then  with  supercilious 
indifference,  they  held  fast  to  their  faith  in  their  country.  They 
sustained  their  country's  fame ;  they  vindicated  their  country's 
interest;  and  through  failure  and  success  they  spoke  the  same 
language  of  calm  resolution.  And  as  time  passed  on,  and  kingdom 
after  kingdom  recognized  them  in  the  fulness  of  their  ambassa 
dorial  character,  they  kept  the  even  tenor  of  their  way  undaunted 
by  fortune,  as  they  had  been  undismayed  by  difficulty.  They 
negotiated  the  great  treaties  which  secured  the  independence  of 
their  country  with  consummate  ability.  They  used  every  honor 
able  advantage  with  adroitness,  they  compromised  no  single  interest 
through  haste,  they  committed  themselves  to  no  exaggerated  prin 
ciples,  and  sacrificed  nothing  to  temporary  triumph.  In  the 
course  of  their  long  and  arduous  labors,  there  were  occasional 
differences  of  opinion ;  and  like  all  men,  there  were  times  when 

1  This  brief  sketch  is  in  many  particulars  based  on  information  kindly  furnished, 
the  editor  by  his  colleague,  Professor  John  Bassett  Moore, 
U 


290  WILLIAM  HENRY   T RE  SCOT 

they  failed  in  their  purposes.  But  they  worked  together  heartily 
for  the  common  good,  and  even  when  circumstances  too  strong  for 
their  control  opposed  their  wishes,  they  never  despaired.  The 
very  variety  of  their  characters  adapted  itself  to  their  necessities  : 
and  if  the  deferential  wisdom  of  Franklin  smoothed  the  difficulties 
of  the  French  treaty,  the  energetic  activity  of  Adams  conquered 
the  obstacles  to  the  alliance  with  Holland,  and  the  conduct  of  the 
negotiations  with  England  was  guided  by  the  inflexible  firmness 
of  Jay.  Others  there  were  whose  fame  is  less,  only  because  suc 
cess  did  not  crown  their  efforts.  But  through  the  whole  period  of 
this  critical  time  —  in  all  the  communications  between  the  govern 
ment  and  its  representatives,  there  is  the  same  firm  and  temperate 
counsel.  They  knew  that  the  Old  World  was  watching  their  con 
duct  to  draw  its  inferences  and  govern  its  policy,  and  they  spoke 
and  acted  without  passion  or  petulance.  Men  of  quiet  dignity, 
tried  faith,  and  large  ability,  their  words  savored  of  no  insolent 
bravado,  no  licentious  sentiment.  They  appealed  to  the  great 
principles  of  international  law  for  the  warrant  of  their  deeds  and 
the  guarantee  of  their  claims.  They  felt  that  the  right  of  indepen 
dent  national  existence  was  a  privilege  not  to  be  lightly  claimed; 
and  they  entered  into  the  old  and  venerable  circle  of  nations  in  no 
vulgar  spirit  of  defiant  equality,  but  calmly,  as  conscious  of  right 
—  resolutely,  as  conscious  of  strength  —  gravely,  as  conscious  of 
duty. 


WASHINGTON  AND  JAY'S   TREATY 

[FROM  "THE  DIPLOMATIC  HISTORY  OF  THE  ADMINISTRATIONS  OF  WASH 
INGTON  AND  ADAMS,  1789-1801,"  1857.] 

.  .  .  THE  great  merit,  therefore,  of  Gen.  Washington's  ad 
ministration  is,  that  it  was  wise  enough  to  recognize,  and  firm 
enough  to  accept,  a  great  national  necessity.  And  this  is  no 
slight  praise.  It  is  an  easy  and  pleasant  thing  for  a  statesman  to 
become  the  instrument  of  national  strength,  the  mouth-piece  of 
national  pride  ;  but  only  to  a  few  chief  spirits  of  history  is  it  given 
to  create  strength  from  their  weakness,  and  to  develop  a  noble 


JAMES  MATTHEWS  LEG  ARE  29 1 

pride  from  a  wise  humility.  This  high  privilege  was,  however, 
granted  to  Washington  and  the  great  men  who  supported  him  in 
that  momentous  struggle.  They  were  forced  to  stand  with  folded 
arms  in  the  presence  of  wrongs  which  they  resented ;  to  check 
national  sympathies  which  they  shared  ;  to  confess  national  weak 
ness  which  they  deplored.  But  they  looked  beyond  the  wounded 
pride  of  the  present  moment  to  the  sober  certainty  of  a  future 
recompense.  They  had  faith  enough  in  their  work  to  trust  the 
future  to  posterity,  and  sufficiently  and  successfully  has  that 
posterity  vindicated  their  policy. 

This  view  of  the  treaty,1  while  it  authorizes  the  profoundest 
admiration  for  those  who  negotiated  and  maintained  it,  allows  us 
at  the  same  time  to  comprehend  thoroughly,  and  appreciate 
fairly,  the  earnest  patriotism  of  that  great  party  which  opposed  it. 
It  is  easy  to  understand  how  repugnant  to  many  sincere  convic 
tions,  how  odious  to  many  honest  prejudices,  how  injurious  to 
many  important  interests,  this  treaty  must  have  appeared ;  and 
we  may  well  be  grateful  that  the  elements  of  political  strife  were 
so  tempered  that  mutual  concession  and  opposition  worked  to 
gether  upon  the  popular  mind,  and  the  very  progress  of  the  adop 
tion  of  an  unsatisfactory  and  unpopular  treaty  tended  to  that 
unity  and  energy  of  national  sentiment,  which  was  sure,  in  time, 
to  render  all  such  treaties  unnecessary. 


JAMES   MATTHEWS   LEGARE 

[VERY  little  is  known  of  this  kinsman  of  Hugh  S.  Legare  (q.v.}  beyond  the 
facts  that  he  was  born  in  Charleston,  November  26,  1823,  and  that  he  died  in 
Aiken,  South  Carolina,  March  30,  1859.  He  seems  to  have  been  a  lawyer 
who  made  no  mark  in  his  profession,  and  an  inventor  who  for  one  reason 
or  another  could  not  make  his  discoveries  effective.  The  most  certain  fact 
about  him  is  that  he  loved  literature.  He  contributed  to  the  current 
magazines,  and  in  1848  he  published  a  thin  volume  of  verse,  "  Orta-Undis, 
and  Other  Poems,"  which  took  its  title  from  the  concluding  piece  in  Latin. 
This  little  book,  although  it  contains  scarcely  a  single  poem  that  is  satisfac- 

1  Jay's  Treaty  of  1794. 


2Q2  JAMES  MATTHEWS  LEG  ARE 

tory  as  a  whole,  and  although  it  shows  that  Legare  had  probably  felt  the  in 
fluence  of  Tennyson,  gives  clear  proof  that  the  young  poet  was  a  true  artist 
and  lover  of  nature.  In  careful  technique  Legare  was  superior  to  most  if 
not  all  of  his  Southern  predecessors  save  Poe,  and  he  was  frequently  able  to 
turn  a  beautiful  stanza  of  description,  as  well  as  to  inspire  his  love  lyrics  with 
genuine  feeling.  The  best  appreciation  of  his  verse  is  to  be  found  in  an 
article  by  Ludwig  Lewisohn,  printed  in  the  Charleston  News  and  Courier  for 
August  1 6,  1903.] 


TO  A  LILY 
[FROM  "  ORTA-UNDIS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS,"  1848.] 

Go  bow  thy  head  in  gentle  spite, 
Thou  lily  white. 

For  she  who  spies  thee  waving  here, 
With  thee  in  beauty  can  compare 
As  day  with  night. 

Soft  are  thy  leaves  and  white  :  her  arms 
Boast  whiter  charms. 
Thy  stem  prone  bent  with  loveliness 
Of  maiden  grace  possesseth  less  : 
Therein  she  charms. 

Thou  in  thy  lake  dost  see 
Thyself :  so  she 
Beholds  her  image  in  her  eyes 
Reflected.    Thus  did  Venus  rise 
From  out  the  sea. 

Inconsolate,  bloom  not  again, 

Thou  rival  vain 

Of  her  whose  charms  have  thine  outdone 

Whose  purity  might  spot  the  sun, 

And  make  thy  leaf  a  stain. 


HAW-BLOSSOMS  293 

HAW-BLOSSOMS 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 


WHILE  yesterevening,  through  the  vale 
Descending  from  my  cottage  door 
I  strayed,  how  cool  and  fresh  a  look 
All  nature  wore. 


The  calm'ias  and  golden-rods, 
And  tender  blossoms  of  the  haw, 
Like  maidens  seated  in  the  wood, 
Demure,  I  saw. 

3 

The  recent  drops  upon  their  leaves 
Shone  brighter  than  the  bluest  eyes,1 
And  filled  the  little  sheltered  dell 
Their  fragrant  sighs. 

4 

Their  pliant  arms  they  interlaced, 
As  pleasant  canopies  they  were  : 
Their  blossoms  swung  against  my  cheek 
Like  braids  of  hair. 

5 

And  when  I  put  their  boughs  aside 
And  stooped  to  pass,  from  overhead 
The  little  agitated  things 
A  shower  shed 

1  The  comma  has  been  inserted. 


2Q4  JAMES  MATTHEWS  LEG  ARE 


Of  tears.     Then  thoughtfully  I  spoke ; 
Well  represent  ye  maidenhood, 
Sweet  flowers.     Life  is  to  the  young 
A  shady  wood. 


And  therein  some  like  golden-rods, 
For  grosser  purposes  designed, 
A  gay  existence  lead,  but  leave 
No  germ  behind. 

8 

And  others  like  the  calm'ias, 

On  cliff-sides  inaccessible, 

Bloom  paramount,  the  vale  with  sweets 

Yet  never  fill. 

9 

But  underneath  the  glossy  leaves, 
When,  working  out  the  perfect  law, 
The  blossoms  white  and  fragrant  still 
Drop  from  the  haw ; 

10 

Like  worthy  deeds  in  silence  wrought 
And  secret,  through  the  lapse  of  years, 
In  clusters  pale  and  delicate 
The  fruit  appears. 

ii 

In  clusters  pale  and  delicate 
But  waxing  heavier  each  day, 
Until  the  many-colored  leaves 
Drift  from  the  spray. 


JAMES  BARRON  HOPE  295 


12 


Then  pendulous,  like  amethysts 
And  rubies,  purple  ripe  and  red, 
Wherewith  God's  feathered  pensioners 
In  flocks  are  fed. 


Therefore,  sweet  reader  of  this  rhyme, 
Be  unto  thee  examples  high 
Not  calm'ias  and  golden-rods 
That  scentless  die  : 

14 

But  the  meek  blossoms  of  the  haw, 
That  fragrant  are  wherever  wind 
The  forest  paths,  and  perishing 
Leave  fruits  behind. 


JAMES   BARRON   HOPE 

[JAMES  BARRON  HOPE,  grandson  of  Commodore  James  Barren,  was  born 
at  his  grandfather's  house  at  the  Gosport  Navy-yard  in  Norfolk,  Virginia, 
March  23,  1829,  and  died  in  that  city  September  15,  1887.  He  got  his  school 
ing  at  Germantown,  Pennsylvania,  and  at  Hampton,  Virginia,  and  then 
studied  at  William  and  Mary  College,  where  he  graduated  in  1847.  Two 
years  later  he  fought  a  duel  which  came  near  being  fatal  to  both  parties,  and 
ever  after  his  disposition  was  rather  to  appease  dissensions  than  to  inflame 
them.  He  served  as  secretary  to  his  uncle  Commodore  Samuel  Barren  of  the 
navy,  and  in  1852  made  a  cruise  in  the  West  Indies,  to  which  we  may  prob 
ably  ascribe  part  of  the  interest  in  Cuba,  to  be  found  in  a  poem  on  that  island 
written  before  the  Civil  War,  yet  couched  in  a  tone  that  would  have  seemed 
strikingly  appropriate  in  1898.*  He  then  studied  law,  and  was  in  1856  elected 
commonwealth's  attorney  of  Hampton.  He  already  had  some  reputation  as 
a  poet  in  consequence  of  his  contributions  to  The  Southern  Literary  Messen 
ger  and  other  periodicals  over  the  signature  of  "  Henry  Ellen."  In  1857  he 

1  This  poem  is  quoted  in  an  article  on  Hope  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Janey  Hope 
Marr,  in  The  Conservative  Review,  March,  1900. 


296  JAMES  BARRON  HOPE 

published,  in  Philadelphia,  his  first  volume,  "  Leoni  di  Monota,  and  Other 
Poems."  In  this  appeared  his  spirited  "  Charge  at  Balaklava,"  which  was 
widely  admired.  The  same  year,  acting  as  the  poet  at  the  two  hundred  and 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  settlement  at  Jamestown,  he  began  to  deliver  those 
memorial  poems  which  gained  him  the  sobriquet  of  "  Virginia's  laureate." 
On  February  22,  1858,  he  recited,  at  Richmond,  the  poem  at  the  unveiling  of 
Crawford's  equestrian  statue  of  Washington,  and  the  same  year  he  published, 
in  a  small  volume,  these  official  poems  and  a  few  others,  including  the  stanzas 
on  Cuba  mentioned  above.  During  the  Civil  War  he  served  as  quartermaster 
and  captain,  and  he  came  out  of  the  struggle  "  broken  in  fortune  and  in  health  ; 
but  he  bore  his  pain  with  wonderful  fortitude  ;  not  only  bore,  but  hid  it  away 
from  those  nearest  to  him."  After  the  war  he  settled  in  Norfolk,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  journalism.  He  founded  the  Norfolk  Landmark  in  1873,  and 
made  it  one  of  the  best  papers  of  the  state.  He  was  a  prominent  figure  in 
Virginia,  noted  not  only  for  his  gifts  as  poet,  speaker,  and  editor,  but  for  his 
attractive  social  qualities.  His  chief  appearance  after  the  war  as  an  official 
poet  was  at  the  celebration  of  the  Yorktown  Centennial  in  1881.  He  subse 
quently  repeated  in  several  large  cities  the  poem  read  on  this  occasion.  He 
was  selected  to  deliver  the  poem  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the 
monument  to  General  Lee  in  Richmond,  but  before  the  event  took  place  he 
was  dead,  and  his  poem  was  read  by  a  friend.  Besides  his  volumes  of  verse 
Captain  Hope  published  a  novel,  some  stories  for  children,  and  several 
addresses.  A  volume  of  selections  from  his  poetry,  entitled  "A  Wreath 
of  Virginia  Bay  Leaves,"  was  edited  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Janey  Hope 
Marr,  in  1895.] 


THE  CHARGE  AT  BALAKLAVA1 

[FROM  "A  WREATH  OF  VIRGINIA  BAY  LEAVES.  POEMS  OF  JAMES  BARRON 
HOPE.  SELECTED  AND  EDITED  BY  HIS  DAUGHTER,  JANEY  HOPE  MARR," 
1895.] 

NOLAN  2  halted  where  the  squadrons, 

Stood  impatient  of  delay, 
Out  he  drew  his  brief  dispatches, 
Which  their  leader  quickly  snatches, 
At  a  glance  their  meaning  catches ; 

They  are  ordered  to  the  fray  ! 

1  Copyright  1895.    Printed  here  by  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Janey  Hope  Marr. 

2  See  page  261,  note  i. 


THE   CHARGE  AT  BALAKLAVA  2Q7 

All  that  morning  they  had  waited  — 

As  their  frowning  faces  showed, 
Horses  stamping,  riders  fretting, 
And  their  teeth  together  setting ; 
Not  a  single  sword-blade  wetting 

As  the  battle  ebbed  and  flowed. 

Now  the  fevered  spell  is  broken, 

Every  man  feels  twice  as  large, 
Every  heart  is  fiercely  leaping, 
As  a  lion  roused  from  sleeping, 
For  they  know  they  will  be  sweeping 

In  a  moment  to  the  charge. 

Brightly  gleam  six  hundred  sabres, 

And  the  brazen  trumpets  ring ; 
Steeds  are  gathered,  spurs  are  driven, 
And  the  heavens  widely  riven 
With  a  mad  shout  upward  given, 

Scaring  vultures  on  the  wing. 

Stern  its  meaning ;  was  not  Gallia 

Looking  down  on  Albion's  sons? 
In  each  mind  this  thought  implanted, 
Undismayed  and  all  undaunted, 
By  the  battle-fiends  enchanted, 

They  ride  down  upon  the  guns. 

Onward  !  On  !  the  chargers  trample ; 

Quicker  falls  each  iron  heel ! 
And  the  headlong  pace  grows  faster ; 
Noble  steed  and  noble  master, 
Rushing  on  to  red  disaster, 

Where  the  heavy  cannons  peal. 

In  the  van  rides  Captain  Nolan  ; 

Soldier  stout  he  was  and  brave  ! 
And  his  shining  sabre  flashes, 


298  JAMES  BARRON  HOPE 

As  upon  the  foe  he  dashes : 
God!  his  face  turns  white  as  ashes, 
He  has  ridden  to  his  grave  ! 

Down  he  fell,  prone  from  his  saddle, 

Without  motion,  without  breath, 
Never  more  a  trump  to  waken  — 
He  the  very  first  one  taken, 
From  the  bough  so  sorely  shaken, 
In  the  vintage-time  of  Death. 

In  a  moment,  in  a  twinkling, 

He  was  gathered  to  his  rest ; 
In  the  time  for  which  he'd  waited  — 
With  his  gallant  heart  elated  — 
Down  went  Nolan,  decorated 
With  a  death  wound  on  his  breast. 

Comrades  still  are  onward  charging, 

He  is  lying  on  the  sod : 
Onward  still  their  steeds  are  rushing 
Where  the  shot  and  shell  are  crushing ; 
From  his  corpse  the  blood  is  gushing, 

And  his  soul  is  with  his  God. 

As  they  spur  on,  what  strange  visions 

Flit  across  each  rider's  brain  ! 
Thoughts  of  maidens  fair,  of  mothers, 
Friends  and  sisters,  wives  and  brothers, 
Blent  with  images  of  others, 

Whom  they  ne'er  shall  see  again. 

Onward  still  the  squadrons  thunder  — 

Knightly  hearts  were  theirs  and  brave, 
Men  and  horses  without  number 
All  the  furrowed  ground  encumber  — 
Falling  fast  to  their  last  slumber  — 
Bloody  slumber  !  bloody  grave  ! 


THE   CHARGE  AT  BALAKLAVA  299 

Of  that  charge  at  Balaklava  — 

In  its  chivalry  sublime  — 
Vivid,  grand,  historic  pages 
Shall  descend  to  future  ages ; 
Poets,  painters,  hoary  sages 

Shall  record  it  for  all  time ; 

Telling  how  those  English  horsemen 

Rode  the  Russian  gunners  down ; 
How  with  ranks  all  torn  and  shattered ; 
How  with  helmets  hacked  and  battered ; 
How  with  sword-arms  blood-bespattered ; 

They  won  honor  and  renown. 

Twas  "not  war,"  but  it  was  splendid1 

As  a  dream  of  old  romance ; 
Thinking  which  their  Gallic  neighbors 
Thrilled  to  watch  them  at  their  labors, 
Hewing  red  graves  with  their  sabres 
In  that  wonderful  advance. 

Down  went  many  a  gallant  soldier ; 

Down  went  many  a  stout  dragoon ; 
Lying  grim,  and  stark,  and  gory, 
On  the  crimson  field  of  glory, 
Leaving  us  a  noble  story 

And  their  white-cliffed  home  a  boon. 

» 
Full  of  hopes  and  aspirations 

Were  their  hearts  at  dawn  of  day ; 
Now,  with  forms  all  rent  and  broken, 
Bearing  each  some  frightful  token 
Of  a  scene  ne'er  to  be  spoken, 

In  their  silent  sleep  they  lay. 

1  General  Pierre  Bosquet,  watching  the  charge,  is  said  to  have  remarked  in 
French,  "  It  is  magnificent,  but  it  is  not  war." 


3OO  JAMES  BARRON  HOPE 

Here  a  noble  charger  stiffens, 

There  his  rider  grasps  the  hilt 
Of  his  sabre  lying  bloody 
By  his  side,  upon  the  muddy, 
Trampled  ground,  which  darkly  ruddy 

Shows  the  blood  that  he  has  spilt. 

And  to-night  the  moon  shall  shudder 
As  she  looks  down  on  the  moor, 

Where  the  dead  of  hostile  races 

Slumber,  slaughtered  in  their  places  ; 

All  their  rigid  ghastly  faces 
Spattered  hideously  with  gore. 

And  the  sleepers  !  ah,  the  sleepers 
Made  1  a  Westminster  that  day  ; 

'Mid  the  seething  battle's  lava  ! 

And  each  man  who  fell  shall  have  a 

Proud  inscription  —  BALAKLAVA, 
Which  shall  never  fade  away.2 

WASHINGTON  AND    LEE3 

[FROM  THE  SAME.  THE  CLOSE  OF  "  THE  LEE  MEMORIAL  ODE,"  READ  AT 
THE  LAYING  OF  THE  CORNER-STONE  OF  THE  LEE  MONUMENT  AT  RICH 
MOND,  IN  OCTOBER, 


WHEN  the  effigy  of  Washington 
In  its  bronze  was  reared  on  high 
'Twas  mine,  with  others,  now  long  gone, 

1  The  text  gives  this  as  ma£j,  but  an  earlier  version  reads  made,  which  seems 
preferable. 

2  This  poem  is  said  to  have  been  highly  admired  by  the  once  popular  British 
novelist,  G.  P.  R.  James,  who  was  at  one  time  consul  at  Norfolk,  Virginia.    He 
sent  a  copy  of  it  to  Queen  Victoria,  and  it  was  favorably  noticed  by  the  British 
press. 

8  By  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Janey  Hope  Marr. 

4  The  author  had  died  a  month  before.   His  poem  was  read  by  Captain  W.  Gor 
don  McCabe 


WASHINGTON  AND  LEE  301 

Beneath  a  stormy  sky, 
To  utter  to  the  multitude 
His  name  that  cannot  die. 

And  here  to-day,  my  Countrymen, 

I  tell  you  Lee  shall  ride 

With  that  great  "  rebel  "  down  the  years  — 

Twin  "  rebels  "  side  by  side !  — 

And  confronting  such  a  vision 

All  our  grief  gives  place  to  pride. 

Those  two  shall  ride  immortal 
And  shall  ride  abreast  of  Time, 
Shall  light  up  stately  history 
And  blaze  in  Epic  Rhyme  — 
Both  patriots,  both  Virginians  true, 
Both  "  rebels,"  both  sublime  ! 

Our  past  is  full  of  glories,1 
It  is  a  shut-in  sea, 
The  pillars  overlooking  it 
Are  Washington  and  Lee  : 
And  a  future  spreads  before  us, 
Not  unworthy  of  the  free. 

And  here  and  now,  my  Countrymen, 

Upon  this  sacred  sod, 

Let  us  feel :  it  was  "  OUR  FATHER  " 

Who  above  us  held  the  rod, 

And  from  hills  to  sea 

Like  Robert  Lee 

Bow  reverently  to  God. 

1  The  comma  has  been  inserted. 


302  HENRY  TIMROD 


HENRY   TIMROD 

[HENRY  TIMROD  was  born  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  December  8, 
1829,  and  died  in  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  October  6,  1867.  He  was  of 
German  descent  on  his  father's  side,  of  English,  on  his  mother's.  His 
father,  William  Henry  Timrod  (1792-1838),  was  a  soldier  in  the  Seminole 
War,  editor  of  a  literary  periodical,  and  author  of  a  volume  of  poems.  Some 
of  the  father's  verses  are  given  in  the  introduction  to  the  "  Memorial  Edition  " 
of  the  son's  poems.  Henry  was  educated  in  Charleston  schools,  his  desk- 
mate  and  close  friend  being  Paul  Hayne  (g.v.).  Already  his  love  for  nature 
and  for  the  classics  and  English  poetry  was  marked,  but  he  also  excelled  in 
sports.  From  school  he  went  to  the  University  of  Georgia,  but  ill  health  and 
lack  of  means  compelled  him  to  leave  before  graduation.  He  tried  the  law 
in  Charleston,  beginning  his  studies  in  the  office  of  the  able  jurist,  J.  L.  Peti- 
gru  (see  p.  116),  but  his  love  for  letters  and  his  sensitive,  poetic  disposition 
soon  showed  him  that  he  had  mistaken  his  vocation.  He  endeavored  to  get 
a  professorship  in  some  college,  but,  failing,  was  obliged  to  earn  his  sup 
port  as  a  private  tutor.  He  did  not  neglect  poetry,  however,  for  he  contrib 
uted  verses  to  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger  and  to  Russell's  Magazine, 
and  he  was  recognized  as  one  of  the  choicest  and  ablest  members  of  the 
coterie  of  literary  men  in  Charleston  presided  over  by  William '  Gilmore 
Simms  in  the  years  immediately  preceding  the  Civil  War.  Shortly  before  the 
conflict  opened,  Timrod  published  a  small  volume  of  his  poems  in  Boston 
(1860),  which  won  praise  from  judicious  readers,  but  was  soon  lost  sight  of 
in  the  excitement  of  the  times.  On  the  outbreak  of  the  war  he  enlisted  as  a 
volunteer,  but  his  greatest  service  to  the  Confederate  cause  was  rendered  by 
such  excellent  martial  lyrics  and  reflective  poems  as  "  Carolina,"  "  Charles 
ton,"  "  Ethnogenesis,"  and  "The  Cotton  Boll,"  which  he  wrote  in  and  near 
Charleston  early  in  the  struggle.  These  produced  such  an  impression  that 
an  effort  was  made  by  some  leading  Carolinians  to  have  an  illustrated  volume 
of  his  poems  brought  out  in  London,  but  the  scheme  miscarried,  greatly  to 
Timrod's  disappointment.  Then  he  went  to  the  front,  only  to  be  sent  back  by 
physician's  orders,  on  account  of  his  feeble  constitution.  Nothing  daunted, 
he  tried  to  serve  as  army  correspondent  in  the  Southwest,  where  the  camp  life 
and  the  horrors  of  retreat  proved  almost  too  much  for  him.  In  1864  he 
obtained  some  respite  for  his  weary  spirit  by  his  appointment  as  editor  of  the 
South  Carolinian  at  Columbia.  Here  he  married  Miss  Kate  Goodwin,  an 
English  girl  resident  in  Charleston,  whose  charms  he  celebrated  in  "  Katie." 
He  remained  in  Columbia,  his  strength  failing  rapidly  and  his  resources  al- 


HENRY  TIMROD  303 

most  exhausted,  and  here  his  baby  boy  died.  The  letters  he  wrote  his  friend 
Simms  during  the  period  are  almost  too  harrowing  in  their  description  of  his 
sufferings  to  bear  publication  at  present  ;  but,  perhaps,  some  day  a  sympa 
thetic  biographer  will  use  them  to  enhance  the  pathos  of  one  of  the  most 
touching  lives  in  all  the  annals  of  genius.  He  preserved  his  courage  to  the 
last,  and  his  gifts  were  never  better  displayed  than  in  the  noble  ode  for  the 
Confederate  dead,  written  at  the  very  close  of  his  life.  Fortunately  the  final 
stages  of  consumption  were  in  his  case  speedily  passed,  and  he  died,  as  he 
had  lived,  with  his  spirit  in  communion  with  his  Muse.  "  His  latest  occupa 
tion  was  correcting  the  proof-sheets  of  his  own  poems,  and  he  passed  away 
with  them  by  his  side,  stained  with  his  life-blood."  He  left  many  true 
friends,  who,  however,  for  some  years  could  do  little  to  perpetuate  his  fame. 
In  1873  Hayne  edited  his  poems  with  a  memoir,  and  a  second  edition 
appeared  the  following  year.  Ten  years  later  "  Katie  "  was  illustrated  and 
published  separately.  A  memorial  poem  or  two,  quotations  in  anthologies, 
and  critical  appreciations  were  not  wanting  in  the  years  that  followed;  but  the 
poet's  admirers  felt  that  something  more  must  be  done  to  make  his  fame  a 
possession,  not  merely  of  his  native  state  and  section,  but  of  the  country. 
Finally  a  Timrod  Memorial  Association  was  formed,1  and  through  its  efforts  a 
"Memorial  Edition"  was  published  in  1899.  This  is  now  issued  by  the 
B.  F.  Johnson  Company  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  and  is  indispensable  to  the 
student  of  Timrod,  a  poet  whose  powers  should  be  judged  from  his  entire 
work  and  not  from  selections  which,  as  a  rule,  represent  chiefly  his  war  lyrics.2 
Careful  study  of  this  volume  will  probably  confirm  the  judgment  of  many  pet- 
sons  that  Timrod  was  the  most  restrained  and  highly  gifted  artist  among  the 
earlier  Southern  writers  with  the  exception  of  Poe,  and  perhaps  of  Hayne.3 
It  was  Timrod's  fortune  not  only  to  leave  a  body  of  verse  excellent  as  a 
whole,  despite  its  too  obvious  indebtedness  to  Tennyson  and  its  other  defects, 
but  also  to  write  three  or  four  poems  like  "  The  Cotton  Boll "  and  "  Charles 
ton,"  so  representative  of  the  high  hopes  and  ideals  of  the  militant  South,  that 
it  is  scarcely  possible  that  posterity  will  ever  forget  them.  And  the  "  Ode  " 
for  the  soldiers  in  Magnolia  Cemetery  is  so  perfect  of  its  kind  that  it  seems 
sufficient  to  preserve  his  memory  not  merely  as  a  Southern,  but  as  a  national 
possession.4  For  criticism,  see  Dr.  S.  A.  Link's  "  Pioneers  of  Southern  Litera- 

1  Largely  through  the  efforts  of  the  Hon.  Wm.  A.  Courtenay. 

2  The  sweet,  pure  stanzas,  entitled  "  The  Lily  Confidante,"  are  given  in  Weber's 
"  Selections  from  the  Southern  Poets,"  and  are  excluded  here  with  regret. 

8  Much  of  Hayne's  best  work,  however,  was  done  after  the  period  of  the 
Civil  War. 

4  A  monument  to  Timrod  was  unveiled  in  Charleston,  May  i,  1901.  A  short 
paper  by  him  on  the  "  Sonnet "  was  published  in  The  Outlook  for  July  23,  1904. 
Numerous  articles  dealing  with  Timrod  may  be  found  through  Poole's  "  Index/' 
See,  among  others,  those  by  Henry  Austin  (International  Review,  Vol.  IX),  and 
by  J.  E.  Routh  (The  South  Atlantic  Quarterly,  Vol.  II). 


304  HENRY  TIMROD 

ture,"  No.  3.,  and  "  The  New  Edition  of  Timrod,"  by  the  late  C.  H.  Ross,  in 
The  Sewanee  Review  for  October,  1899.] 


SPRING 

[FROM  "  POEMS  OF  HENRY  TIMROD."    MEMORIAL  EDITION,  I899.1] 

SPRING,  with  that  nameless  pathos  in  the  air 
Which  dwells  with  all  things  fair, 
Spring,  with  her  golden  suns  and  silver  rain, 
Is  with  us  once  again. 

Out  in  the  lonely  woods  the  jasmine  burns 
Its  fragrant  lamps,  and  turns 
Into  a  royal  court  with  green  festoons 
The  banks  of  dark  lagoons. 

In  the  deep  heart  of  every  forest  tree 
The  blood  is  all  aglee, 
And  there's  a  look  about  the  leafless  bowers 
As  if  they  dreamed  of  flowers. 

Yet  still  on  every  side  we  trace  the  hand 
Of  Winter  in  the  land, 
Save  where  the  maple  reddens  on  the  lawn, 
Flushed  by  the  season's  dawn ; 

Or  where,  like  those  strange  semblances  we  find 
That  age  to  childhood  bind, 
The  elm  puts  on,  as  if  in  Nature's  scorn, 
The  brown  of  Autumn  corn. 

As  yet  the  turf  is  dark,  although  you  know 
That,  not  a  span  below, 

A  thousand  germs  are  groping  through  the  gloom, 
And  soon  will  burst  their  tomb. 

1  Now  published  by  the  B.  F.  Johnson  Company  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  through 
whose  kind  permission  these  copyrighted  poems  are  here  reprinted. 


SPRING  305 

Already,  here  and  there,  on  frailest  stems 
Appear  some  azure  gems, 
Small  as  might  deck,  upon  a  gala  day, 
The  forehead  of  a  fay. 

In  gardens  you  may  note  amid  the  dearth 
The  crocus  breaking  earth  ; 
And  near  the  snowdrop's  tender  white  and  green, 
The  violet  in  its  screen. 

But  many  gleams  and  shadows  need  must  pass 
Along  the  budding  grass, 
And  weeks  go  by,  before  the  enamored  South l 
Shall  kiss  the  rose's  mouth. 

Still  there's  a  sense  of  blossoms  yet  unborn 
In  the  sweet  airs  of  morn  ; 
One  almost  looks  to  see  the  very  street 
Grow  purple  at  his  feet. 

At  times  a  fragrant  breeze  comes  floating  by, 
And  brings,  you  know  not  why, 
A  feeling  as  when  eager  crowds  await 
Before  a  palace  gate 

Some  wondrous  pageant ;  and  you  scarce  would  start, 

If  from  a  beech's  heart, 

A  blue-eyed  Dryad,  stepping  forth,  should  say, 

"  Behold  me  !     I  am  May  !  " 

Ah  !  who  would  couple  thoughts  of  war  and  crime 
With  such  a  blessed  time  ! 
Who  in  the  west  wind's  aromatic  breath 
Could  hear  the  call  of  Death  ! 

Yet  not  more  surely  shall  the  Spring  awake 
The  voice  of  wood  and  brake, 

1  The  south  wind. 


306  HENRY   TIMROD 

Than  she  shall  rouse,  for  all  her  tranquil  charms, 
A  million  men  to  arms. 

There  shall  be  deeper  hues  upon  her  plains 
Than  all  her  sunlit  rains, 
And  every  gladdening  influence  around, 
Can  summon  from  the  ground. 

Oh  !  standing  on  this  desecrated  mould, 
Methinks  that  I  behold, 
Lifting  her  bloody  daisies  up  to  God, 
Spring  kneeling  on  the  sod, 

And  calling,  with  the  voice  of  all  her  rills, 
Upon  the  ancient  hills 
To  fall  and  crush  the  tyrants  and  the  slaves 
Who  turn  her  meads  to  graves. 


THE   COTTON   BOLL1 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

WHILE  I  recline 

At  ease  beneath 

This  immemorial  pine, 

Small  sphere  ! 

(By  dusky  fingers  brought  this  morning  here 

And  shown  with  boastful  smiles), 

I  turn  thy  cloven  sheath, 

Through  which  the  soft  white  fibres  peer, 

That,  with  their  gossamer  bands, 

Unite,  like  love,  the  sea-divided  lands, 

And  slowly,  thread  by  thread, 

Draw  forth  the  folded  strands, 

Than  which  the  trembling  line, 

By  whose  frail  help  yon  startled  spider  fled 

Down  the  tall  spear-grass  from  his  swinging  bed, 

1  Copyrighted  by  the  B.  F.  Johnson  Company. 


THE    COTTON  BOLL  307 

Is  scarce  more  fine  ; 

And  as  the  tangled  skein 

Unravels  in  my  hands, 

Betwixt  me  and  the  noonday  light, 

A  veil  seems  lifted,  and  for  miles  and  miles 

The  landscape  broadens  on  my  sight, 

As,  in  the  little  boll,1  there  lurked  a  spell 

Like  that  which,  in  the  ocean  shell, 

With  mystic  sound, 

Breaks  down  the  narrow  walls  that  hem  us  round, 

And  turns  some  city  lane 

Into  the  restless  main, 

With  all  his  capes  and  isles  ! 

Yonder  bird, 

Which  floats,  as  if  at  rest, 

In  those  blue  tracts  above  the  thunder,  where 

No  vapors  cloud  the  stainless  air, 

And  never  sound  is  heard, 

Unless  at  such  rare  time 

When,  from  the  City  of  the  Blest, 

Rings  down  some  golden  chime, 

Sees  not  from  his  high  place 

So  vast  a  cirque  of  summer  space 

As  widens  round  me  in  one  mighty  field, 

Which,  rimmed  by  seas  and  sands, 

Doth  hail  its  earliest  daylight  in  the  beams 

Of  gray  Atlantic  dawns  ; 

And,  broad  as  realms  made  up  of  many  lands, 

Is  lost  afar 

Behind  the  crimson  hills  and  purple  lawns 

Of  sunset,  among  plains  which  roll  their  streams 

Against  the  Evening  Star  ! 

And  lo  ! 

To  the  remotest  point  of  sight, 

Although  I  gaze  upon  no  waste  of  snow, 

1  The  pod,  or  seed  capsule,  of  the  cotton  plant. 


308  HENRY  TIMROD 

The  endless  field  is  white ; 

And  the  whole  landscape  glows, 

For  many  a  shining  league  away, 

With  such  accumulated  light 

As  Polar  lands  would  flash  beneath  a  tropic  day  ! 

Nor  lack  there  (for  the  vision  grows, 

And  the  small  charm  within  my  hands  — 

More  potent  even  than  the  fabled  one, 

Which  oped  whatever  golden  mystery 

Lay  hid  in  fairy  wood  or  magic  vale, 

The  curious  ointment  of  the  Arabian  tale l  — 

Beyond  all  mortal  sense 

Doth  stretch  my  sight's  horizon,  and  I  see, 

Beneath  its  simple  influence, 

As  if  with  Uriel's 2  crown, 

I  stood  in  some  great  temple  of  the  Sun, 

And  looked,  as  Uriel,  down  !) 

Nor  lack  there  pastures  rich  and  fields  all  green 

With  all  the  common  gifts  of  God, 

For  temperate  airs  and  torrid  sheen 

Weave  Edens  of  the  sod  ; 

Through  lands  which  look  one  sea  of  billowy  gold 

Broad  rivers  wind  their  devious  ways  ; 

A  hundred  isles  in  their  embraces  fold 

A  hundred  luminous  bays  ; 

And  through  yon  purple  haze 

Vast  mountains  lift  their  plumed  peaks  cloud-crowned ; 

And,  save  where  up  their  sides  the  ploughman  creeps, 

An  unhewn  forest  girds  them  grandly  round, 

In  whose  dark  shades  a  future  navy  sleeps  ! 

Ye  Stars,  which,  though  unseen,  yet  with  me  gaze 

Upon  this  loveliest  fragment  of  the  earth ! 

Thou  Sun,  that  kindlest  all  thy  gentlest  rays 

1  The  reference  seems  to  be  to  the  story  told  by  the  blind  man  who  stood  at  the 
entrance  to  the  bridge  and  entreated  alms,  which,  however,  must  be  accompanied 
with  a  box  on  the  ear.    It  is  part  of  the  composite  story  describing  the  adventures 
of  Haroun  Al  Raschid  at  the  bridge. 

2  Cf.  "  Paradise  Lost "  III,  648-650. 


THE   COTTON  BOLL  309 

Above  it,  as  to  light  a  favorite  hearth  ! 

Ye  Clouds,  that  in  your  temples  in  the  West 

See  nothing  brighter  than  its  humblest  flowers  ! 

And  you,  ye  Winds,  that  on  the  ocean's  breast 

Are  kissed  to  coolness  ere  ye  reach  its  bowers ! 

Bear  witness  with  me  in  my  song  of  praise, 

And  tell  the  world  that,  since  the  world  began, 

No  fairer  land  hath  fired  a  poet's  lays, 

Or  given  a  home  to  man  ! 

But  these  are  charms  already  widely  blown  ! 

His  be  the  meed  whose  pencil's  trace 

Hath  touched  our  very  swamps  with  grace, 

And  round  whose  tuneful  way 

All  Southern  laurels  bloom  ; 

The  Poet  of  "  The  Woodlands," 1  unto  whom 

Alike  are  known 

The  flute's  low  breathing  and  the  trumpet's  tone, 

And  the  soft  west  wind's  sighs ; 

But  who  shall  utter  all  the  debt, 

O  land  wherein  all  powers  are  met 

That  bind  a  people's  heart, 

The  world  doth  owe  thee  at  this  day, 

And  which  it  never  can  repay, 

Yet  scarcely  deigns  to  own  ! 

Where  sleeps  the  poet  who  shall  fitly  sing 

The  source  wherefrom  doth  spring 

That  mighty  commerce  which,  confined 

To  the  mean  channels  of  no  selfish  mart, 

Goes  out  to  every  shore 

Of  this  broad  earth,  and  throngs  the  sea  with  ships 

That  bear  no  thunders  ;  hushes  hungry  lips 

In  alien  lands ; 

Joins  with  a  delicate  web  remotest  strands .; 

And  gladdening  rich  and  poor, 

l"  Woodlands"  was  the  country-place  of  William  Gilmore  Simms  (?.*>.),  who 
wrote  a  poem,  "  The  Edge  of  the  Swamp,"  and  also  in  his  Revolutionary  romances 
described  the  swamp  retreats  of  the  partisans. 


310  HENRY  TIMROD 

Doth  gild  Parisian  domes, 

Or  feed  the  cottage-smoke  of  English  homes, 

And  only  bounds  its  blessings  by  mankind  ! 

In  offices  like  these,  thy  mission  lies, 

My  Country  !  and  it  shall  not  end 

As  long  as  rain  shall  fall  and  Heaven  bend 

In  blue  above  thee ;  though  thy  foes  be  hard 

And  cruel  as  their  weapons,  it  shall  guard 

Thy  hearth-stones  as  a  bulwark ;  make  thee  great 

In  white  and  bloodless  state  ; 

And  haply,  as  the  years  increase  — 

Still  working  through  its  humbler  reach 

With  that  large  wisdom  which  the  ages  teach  — 

Revive  the  half- dead  dream  of  universal  peace  ! 

As  men  who  labor  in  that  mine 

Of  Cornwall,  hollowed  out  beneath  the  bed 

Of  ocean,  when  a  storm  rolls  overhead, 

Hear  the  dull  booming  of  the  world  of  brine 

Above  them,  and  a  mighty  muffled  roar 

Of  winds  and  waters,  yet  toil  calmly  on, 

And  split  the  rock,  and  pile  the  massive  ore, 

Or  carve  a  niche,  or  shape  the  arched  roof; 

So  I,  as  calmly,  weave  my  woof 

Of  song,  chanting  the  days  to  come, 

Unsilenced,  though  the  quiet  summer  air 

Stirs  with  the  bruit  of  battles,  and  each  dawn 

Wakes  from  its  starry  silence  to  the  hum 

Of  many  gathering  armies.     Still, 

In  that  we  sometimes  hear, 

Upon  the  Northern  winds,  the  voice  of  woe 

Not  wholly  drowned  in  triumph,  though  I  know 

The  end  must  crown  us,  and  a  few  brief  years 

Dry  all  our  tears, 

I  may  not  sing  too  gladly.     To  Thy  will 

Resigned,  O  Lord  !  we  cannot  all  forget 

That  there  is  much  even  Victory  must  regret. 

And,  therefore,  not  too  long 


KATIE  311 

From  the  great  burthen  of  our  country's  wrong 

Delay  our  just  release  ! 

And,  if  it  may  be,  save 

These  sacred  fields  of  peace 

From  stain  of  patriot  or  of  hostile  blood  ! 

Oh,  help  us,  Lord  !  to  roll  the  crimson  flood 

Back  on  its  course,  and,  while  our  banners  wing 

Northward,  strike  with  us  !  till  the  Goth  shall  cling 

To  his  own  blasted  altar-stones,  and  crave 

Mercy ;  and  we  shall  grant  it,  and  dictate 

The  lenient  future  of  his  fate 

There,  where  some  rotting  ships  and  crumbling  quays 

Shall  one  day  mark  the  Port  which  ruled  the  Western  seas. 


KATIE  i 

[FROM    THE    SAME.2] 

IT  may  be  through  some  foreign  grace, 

And  unfamiliar  charm  of  face  ; 

It  may  be  that  across  the  foam 

Which  bore  her  from  her  childhood's  home, 

By  some  strange  spell,  my  Katie  brought, 

Along  with  English  creeds  and  thought  — 

Entangled  in  her  golden  hair  — 

Some  English  sunshine,  warmth,  and  air  ! 

I  cannot  tell  —  but  here  to-day, 

A  thousand  billowy  leagues  away 

From  that  green  isle  whose  twilight  skies 

No  darker  are  than  Katie's  eyes, 

She  seems  to  me,  go  where  she  will, 

An  English  girl  in  England  still ! 

I  meet  her  on  the  dusty  street, 
And  daisies  spring  about  her  feet ; 
Or,  touched  to  life  beneath  her  tread, 

1  Copyrighted  by  the  B.  F.  Johnson  Company. 

2  Only  the  opening  of  the  poem  is  given. 


312  HENRY  TIMROD 

An  English  cowslip  lifts  its  head ; 

And,  as  to  do  her  grace,  rise  up 

The  primrose  and  the  buttercup  ! 

I  roam  with  her  through  fields  of  cane, 

And  seem  to  stroll  an  English  lane, 

Which,  white  with  blossoms  of  the  May, 

Spreads  its  green  carpet  in  her  way  ! 

As  fancy  wills,  the  path  beneath 

Is  golden  gorse,  or  purple  heath  : 

And  now  we  hear  in  woodlands  dim 

Their  unarticulated  hymn, 

Now  walk  through  rippling  waves  of  wheat, 

Now  sink  in  mats  of  clover  sweet, 

Or  see  before  us  from  the  lawn 

The  lark  go  up  to  greet  the  dawn  ! 

All  birds  that  love  the  English  sky 

Throng  round  my  path  when  she  is  by : 

The  blackbird  from  a  neighboring  thorn 

With  music  brims  the  cup  of  morn, 

And  in  a  thick,  melodious  rain 

The  mavis  pours  her  mellow  strain  ! 

But  only  when  my  Katie's  voice 

Makes  all  the  listening  woods  rejoice 

I  hear  —  with  cheeks  that  flush  and  pale  — 

The  passion  of  the  nightingale. 

CAROLINA  i 
[FROM  'THE  SAME.] 

I 

THE  despot  treads  thy  sacred  sands, 
Thy  pines  give  shelter  to  his  bands, 
Thy  sons  stand  by  with  idle  hands, 

Carolina  ! 

He  breathes  at  ease  thy  airs  of  balm, 
He  scorns  the  lances  of  thy  palm ; 

1  Copyrighted  by  the  B.  F.  Johnson  Company. 


CAROLINA  313 


Oh  !  who  shall  break  thy  craven  calm, 
Carolina  ! 

Thy  ancient  fame  is  growing  dim, 

A  spot  is  on  thy  garment's  rim ; 

Give  to  the  winds  thy  battle  hymn, 
Carolina  ! 


Call  on  thy  children  of  the  hill, 
Wake  swamp  and  river,  coast  and  rill, 
Rouse  all  thy  strength  and  all  thy  skill, 

Carolina  ! 

Cite  wealth  and  science,  trade  and  art, 
Touch  with  thy  fire  the  cautious  mart, 
And  pour  thee  through  the  people's  heart. 

Carolina ! 

Till  even  the  coward  spurns  his  fears, 
And  all  thy  fields  and  fens  and  meres 
Shall  bristle  like  thy  palm  with  spears, 

Carolina ! 

in 

Hold  up  the  glories  of  thy  dead ; 
Say  how  thy  elder  children  bled, 
And  point  to  Eutaw's  battle-bed,1 

Carolina  ! 

Tell  how  the  patriot's  soul  was  tried, 
And  what  his  dauntless  breast  defied ; 
How  Rutledge  2  ruled  and  Laurens 3  died, 

Carolina  ! 

1  The  battle  of  Eutaw  Springs  was  fought  September  8,  1781,  and  was  a  victory  for 
the  Americans,  under  General  Nathanael  .Greene,  over  the  British,  under  General 
Stuart. 

2  John  Rutledge  (1739-1800),  the  distinguished  orator  and  president  of  South 
Carolina  during  the  Revolution.    He  served  in  the  Continental  Congress  and  in  the 
Constitutional  Convention  of  1787,  and  in  1795  was  appointed  Chief  Justice  of  the 
United  States.    Mental  disease  soon  after  rendered  him  unfit  to  hold  the  office. 

3  John  Laurens  (1756-1782),  son  of  Henry  Laurens  (q.v.},  young  patriot  and 
soldier.     He  was  killed  in  a  skirmish  at  the  close  of  the  Revolution,  and  was  greatly 
lamented.    Simms  edited  his  correspondence  in  1867. 


314  HENRY  TIM  ROD 

Cry  !  till  thy  summons,  heard  at  last, 
Shall  fall  like  Marion's  bugle-blast 
Reechoed  from  the  haunted  Past, 
Carolina  ! 

IV 

I  hear  a  murmur  as  of  waves 

That  grope  their  way  through  sunless  caves, 

Like  bodies  struggling  in  their  graves, 

Carolina  ! 

And  now  it  deepens ;  slow  and  grand 
It  swells,  as,  rolling  to  the  land, 
An  ocean  broke  upon  thy  strand, 

Carolina  ! 

Shout !  let  it  reach  the  startled  Huns  ! 
And  roar  with  all  thy  festal  guns  ! 
It  is  the  answer  of  thy  sons, 

Carolina  ! 


They  will  not  wait  to  hear  thee  call ; 
From  Sachem's  Head  to  Sumter's  wall l 
Resounds  the  voice  of  hut  and  hall, 

Carolina  ! 

No  !  thou  hast  not  a  stain,  they  say, 
Or  none  save  what  the  battle-day 
Shall  wash  in  seas  of  blood  away, 

Carolina  ! 

Thy  skirts  indeed  the  foe  may  part, 
Thy  robe  be  pierced  with  sword  and  dart, 
They  shall  not  touch  thy  noble  heart, 

Carolina ! 

VI 

Ere  thou  shalt  own  the  tyrant's  thrall 
Ten  times  ten  thousand  men  must  fall ; 

1  I.e.  from  mountains  to  sea. 


CHARLESTON  3 1 5 


Thy  corpse  may  hearken  to  his  call, 

Carolina  ! 

When,  by  thy  bier,  in  mournful  throngs 
The  women  chant  thy  mortal  wrongs, 
'Twill  be  their  own  funereal  songs, 

Carolina  ! 

From  thy  dead  breast  by  ruffians  trod 
No  helpless  child  shall  look  to  God ; 
All  shall  be  safe  beneath  thy  sod, 
Carolina ! 


VII 

Girt  with  such  wills  to  do  and  bear, 
Assured  in  right,  and  mailed  in  prayer, 
Thou  wilt  not  bow  thee  to  despair, 

Carolina  ! 

Throw  thy  bold  banner  to  the  breeze  ! 
Front  with  thy  ranks  the  threatening  seas 
Like  thine  own  proud  armorial  trees,1 

Carolina  ! 

Fling  down  thy  gauntlet  to  the  Huns, 
And  roar  the  challenge  from  thy  guns ; 
Then  leave  the  future  to  thy  sons, 

Carolina ! 


CHARLESTON2 

[P'ROM  THE  SAME.] 

CALM  as  that  second  summer  which  precedes 

The  first  fall  of  the  snow, 
In  the  broad  sunlight  of  heroic  deeds, 

The  City  bides  the  foe. 

1  The  palmettos  in  the  seal  of  South  Carolina. 

2  Copyrighted  by  the  B.  F.  Johnson  Company. 


316  HENRY  TIM  ROD 

As  yet,  behind  their  ramparts  stern  and  proud, 

Her  bolted  thunders  sleep  — 
'  Dark  Sumter,  like  a  battle mented  cloud, 
Looms  o'er  the  solemn  deep. 

No  Calpe l  frowns  from  lofty  cliff  or  scar 

To  guard  the  holy  strand ; 
But  Moultrie 2  holds  in  leash  her  dogs  of  war 

Above  the  level  sand. 

And  down  the  dunes  a  thousand  guns  lie  couched, 

Unseen,  beside  the  flood  — 
Like  tigers  in  some  Orient  jungle  crouched 

That  wait  and  watch  for  blood. 

Meanwhile,  through  streets  still  echoing  with  trade, 

Walk  grave  and  thoughtful  men, 
Whose  hands  may  one  day  wield  the  patriot's  blade 

As  lightly  as  the  pen. 

And  maidens,  with  such  eyes  as  would  grow  dim 

Over  a  bleeding  hound, 
Seem  each  one  to  have  caught  the  strength  of  him 

Whose  sword  she  sadly  bound. 

Thus  girt  without  and  garrisoned  at  home, 

Day  patient  following  day, 
Old  Charleston  looks  from  roof,  and  spire,  and  dome, 

Across  her  tranquil  bay. 

Ships,  through  a  hundred  foes,  from  Saxon  lands 

And  spicy  Indian  ports, 
Bring  Saxon  steel  and  iron  to  her  hands, 

And  Summer  to  her  courts. 

But  still,  along  yon  dim  Atlantic  line, 
The  only  hostile  smoke 

1  The  Greek  corruption  of  the  original  Phoenician  name  of  Gibraltar. 

2  Fort  Moultrie.    Cf.  Poe's  "  Gold  Bug." 


ODE  3 1 7 

Creeps  like  a  harmless  mist  above  the  brine, 
From  some  frail,  floating  oak. 

Shall  the  Spring  dawn,  and  she  still  clad  in  smiles, 

And  with  an  unscathed  brow, 
Rest  in  the  strong  arms  of  her  palm-crowned  isles, 

As  fair  and  free  as  now  ? 

We  know  not ;  in  the  temple  of  the  Fates 

God  has  inscribed  her  doom  ; 
And,  all  untroubled  in  her  faith,  she  waits 

The  triumph  or  the  tomb. 

ODE1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.  SUNG  ON  THE  OCCASION  OF  DECORATING  THE  GRAVES 
OF  THE  CONFEDERATE  DEAD,  AT  MAGNOLIA  CEMETERY,  CHARLESTON, 
SOUTH  CAROLINA,  1867.] 


SLEEP  sweetly  in  your  humble  graves, 
Sleep,  martyrs  of  a  fallen  cause  ; 

Though  yet  no  marble  column  craves 
The  pilgrim  here  to  pause. 

ii 

In  seeds  of  laurel  in  the  earth 

The  blossom  of  your  fame  is  blown, 

And  somewhere,  waiting  for  its  birth, 
The  shaft  is  in  the  stone  ! 

in 

Meanwhile,  behalf  the  tardy  years 

Which  keep  in  trust  your  storied  tombs, 

Behold  !  your  sisters  bring  their  tears, 
And  these  memorial  blooms. 

1  Copyrighted  by  the  B.  F.  Johnson  Company. 


PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 

IV 

Small  tributes  !  but  your  shades  will  smile 
More  proudly  on  these  wreaths  to-day, 

Than  when  some  cannon-moulded  pile 
Shall  overlook  this  bay. 

v 

Stoop,  angels,  hither  from  the  skies ! 

There  is  no  holier  spot  of  ground 
Than  where  defeated  valor  lies, 

By  mourning  beauty  crowned  ! 


PAUL   HAMILTON   HAYNE 

[PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE  was  born  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  Janu 
ary  i,  1830,  and  died  at  "  Copse  Hill,"  near  Augusta,  Georgia,  July  6,  1886.  He 
came  of  an  old  and  well-to-do  family,  and  was  the  son  of  Lieutenant  Paul 
Hamilton  Hayne  of  the  navy.  His  father  dying  early,  young  Hayne  was  left 
to  the  care  of  his  mother  and  of  his  uncle,  Robert  Young  Hayne  (^.),  the 
orator  and  statesman.  He  was  given  a  good  schooling,  and  after  graduating 
at  the  College  of  Charleston  in  1852,  began  the  practice  of  law  ;  but,  like 
his  friend  Timrod,  he  found  his  heart  more  given  to  poetry.  In  1857  he 
became  editor  of  Russell's  Magazine,  which  he  made  a  decided  success,  with 
the  assistance  of  his  fellow-members  of  Simms's  coterie.  This  was  not  his 
only  editorial  venture,  and  before  the  Civil  War  came  on  he  had  published 
three  volumes  of  poetry  in  Boston  (1855,  1857,  1859).  During  the  struggle 
he  became  an  aide  to  Governor  Pickens,  and  served  until  his  health  forced 
him  into  retirement.  Like  Timrod,  he  voiced  the  aspirations  of  the  South 
in  lyrics  which  were  very  popular  ;  but  although  some  of  them,  such  as 
"Vicksburg  —  a  Ballad,"  are  decidedly  meritorious,  it  can  scarcely  be  said 
that  he  really  rivalled  his  friend  as  the  lyrist  of  the  Southern  cause.  Like 
Timrod,  also,  he  suffered  personally  from  the  ravages  of  the  war.  During 
the  attacks  upon  Charleston,  his  home  and  his  fine  library  were  burned,  and 
he  was  greatly  impoverished.  At  the  close  of  the  war  he  settled  near  Augusta, 
Georgia,  engaging  in  editorial  work  and  struggling  bravely  against  poverty. 
He  was  much  aided  by  his  wife,  who  like  himself  had  been  a  native  of 
Charleston,  Miss  Mary  Middleton  Michel.  He  was  also  encouraged  by  Eng 
lish  friends,  who  recognized  his  poetical  gifts,  and  by  generous  men  of  let 
ters  in  the  North,  such  as  Longfellow,  to  whom  he  addressed  grateful  poetic 


PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE  319 

tributes.  His  lack  of  resentment  for  the  ills  he  had  endured,  his  devotion  to 
his  art,  his  noble  fight  with  poverty  and  ill-health,  did  much,  not  only  to  endear 
him  to  the  Southern  people,  but  also  to  enable  him  to  take  a  leading  share 
in  the  reconciliation  of  the  sections.  He  was  an  indefatigable  contribu 
tor  to  the  magazines,  and  not  only  increased  largely  the  mass  of  his  poetry, 
but  also  wrote  biographical  sketches,  such  as  those  of  his  uncle,  Robert 
Young  Hayne,  and  Hugh  S.  Legare  (1878),  and  edited  the  poems  of 
Timrod l  (1873).  His  "  Legends  and  Lyrics,"  probably  the  best  of  his  single 
volumes,  appeared  in  1872.  This  was  followed,  in  1875,  bv  "The  Moun 
tain  of  the  Lovers,  and  Other  Poems."  In  1879  he  contributed  an  intro 
duction  to  the  edition  of  Ticknor's  poems.  In  1882  a  handsome  illustrated 
edition  of  his  own  complete  poems,  making  a  volume  of  nearly  four  hundred 
double-column  pages,  was  published  in  Boston.  To  this  was  prefixed  a  short 
sketch  of  the  poet  by  the  poetess  Mrs.  Margaret  J.  Preston  (#.v.)t  which  justly 
emphasized  Hayne's  love  and  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  poetry,  his  fine  spirit 
of  independence,  and  his  subtle  power  as  a  poetic  interpreter  of  nature  in  her 
Southern  aspects.  This  volume  was  the  crowning  effort  of  Hayne's  life,  for 
about  the  time  it  was  published  his  health  began  to  break  down  in  an  alarming 
manner.  He  labored  till  the  last,  however,  and  left  behind  him  an  un 
finished  story,  "  Wickam's  Roost,"  as  well  as  a  mass  of  prose  fiction,  essays, 
reviews,  and  biographical  sketches,  published  in  various  periodicals  such  as 
The  Home  Journal  and  The  Southern  Bivouac,  but  never  gathered  into 
permanent  form.  His  reputation  is  still  cherished  by  the  South,  and  is  kept 
fresh  by  the  verses  of  his  son  Mr.  William  Hamilton  Hayne  (^.^.)  ;  but  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  his  fine  fight  for  literary  independence,  his  admirable 
knowledge  and  use  of  the  resources  of  his  art,  and  the  value  of  his  poetical 
work  as  an  interpretation  of  Southern  ideals  and  of  Southern  nature  have 
been  properly  appreciated  by  the  nation  at  large.  Among  the  American 
poets  who  have  been  masters  of  technique  his  place  is  an  honorable  one, 
and  certainly  no  other  Southern  writer  has  displayed  a  more  delicately  re 
ceptive  genius  than  his.  Both  as  a  man  and  as  a  poet  he  should  be  better 
known,  and  it  is  much  to  be  hoped  that  some  day  he  will  be  made  the 
subject  of  an  adequate  memoir  and  critical  study.  For  glimpses  of  Hayne, 
see  the  editor's  "  William  Gilmore  Simms " ;  also  "  The  Life  and  Letters 
of  Margaret  Junkin  Preston,"  and  an  article  in  The  Critic  (Vol.  XXXVIII), 
entitled  "The  Last  Literary  Cavalier,"  by  the  late  poet  and  romancer, 
Maurice  Thompson.  For  criticism,  see  Lanier's  "  Music  and  Poetry  "  and 
his  "  Letters."] 

1  This  contained  an  elaborate  memoir,  and,  appearing  as  it  did  before  Hayne 
collected  his  own  poems,  was  a  signal  illustration  of  his  unselfish  loyalty  to  Timrod, 


320  PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 

A  DREAM   OF   THE   SOUTH  WINDS 

[FROM  "  POEMS  OF  PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE."  COMPLETE  EDITION,  I882.1] 

O  FRESH,  how  fresh  and  fair 

Through  the  crystal  gulfs  of  air, 
The  fairy  South  Wind  ftoateth  on  her  subtle  wings  of  balm  ! 

And  the  green  earth  lapped  in  bliss, 

To  the  magic  of  her  kiss 
Seems  yearning  upward  fondly  through  the  golden-crested  calm  ! 

From  the  distant  Tropic  strand, 

Where  the  billows,  bright  and  bland, 
Go  creeping,  curling  round  the  palms  with  sweet,  faint  undertune, 

From  its  fields  of  purpling  flowers 

Still  wet  with  fragrant  showers, 
The  happy  South  Wind  lingering  sweeps  the  royal  blooms  of  June. 

All  heavenly  fancies  rise 

On  the  perfume  of  her  sighs, 
Which  steep  the  inmost  spirit  in  a  languor  rare  and  fine, 

And  a  peace  more  pure  than  sleep's 

Unto  dim,  half-conscious  deeps, 
Transports  me,  lulled  and  dreaming,  on  its  twilight  tides  divine. 

Those  dreams  !  ah  me  !  the  splendor, 

So  mystical  and  tender, 

Wherewith  like  soft  heat-lightnings  they  gird  their  meaning 
round, 

And  those  waters,  calling,  calling, 

With  a  nameless  charm  enthralling, 
Like  the  ghost  of  music  melting  on  a  rainbow  spray  of  sound  ! 

1  Copyright,  1882.  For  permission  to  publish  all  the  selections  from  Hayne, 
save  the  last,  thanks  are  due  the  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Company,  the  present 
holders  of  the  copyright,  and  to  William  H.  Hayne,  Esq. 


A  PASSAGE  FROM  "FIRE  PICTURES"  321 

Touch,  touch  me  not,  nor  wake  me, 

Lest  grosser  thoughts  o'ertake  me, 
From  earth  receding  faintly  with  her  dreary  din  and  jars,  — 

What  viewless  arms  caress  me? 

What  whispered  voices  bless  me, 

With  welcomes  dropping  dewlike  from  the  weird  and  wondrous 
stars  ? 

Alas  !  dim,  dim,  and  dimmer 

Grows  the  preternatural  glimmer 

Of  that  trance  the  South  Wind  brought  me  on  her  subtle  wings  of 
balm, 

For  behold  !  its  spirit  flieth, 

And  its  fairy  murmur  dieth, 
And  the  silence  closing  round  me  is  a  dull  and  soulless  calm  ! 


A  PASSAGE   FROM   "FIRE  PICTURES" 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

DREAMING  still,  from  out  the  fire 
Faces  grinning  and  grotesque, 
Flash  an  eery  glance  upon  me ; 
Or,  once  more,  methinks  I  sun  me 
On  the  breadths  of  happy  plain 
Sloping  towards  the  southern  main, 
Where  the  inmost  soul  of  shadow 

Wins  a  golden  heat, 
And  the  hill-side  and  the  meadow 
(Where  the  vines  and  clover  meet, 
Twining  round  the  virgins'  feet, 
While  the  natural  arabesque 
Of  the  foliage  grouped  above  them 
Droops,  as  if  the  leaves  did  love  them, 
Over  brow,  and  lips,  and  eyes) 
Gleam  with  hints  of  Paradise  ! 


322  PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 

Ah  !  the  fire  ! 

Gently  glowing, 

Fairly  flowing, 
Like  a  rivulet  rippling  deep 
Through  the  meadow-lands  of  sleep, 
Bordered  where  its  music  swells 
By  the  languid  lotus-bells, 
And  the  twilight  asphodels ; 
Mingled  with  a  richer  boon 
Of  queen-lilies,  each  a  moon, 
Orbed  into  white  completeness  ; 
O  !  the  perfume  !  the  rare  sweetness 
Of  those  grouped  and  fairy  flowers, 
Over  which  the  love-lorn  hours 
Linger,  —  not  alone  for  them, 
Though  the  lotus  swings  its  stem 
With  the  lulling  stir  of  leaves,  — 
Through  the  lady-lily  waves, 
And  a  silvery  undertune 
From  some  mystic  wind-song  grieves 
Dainty  sweet  amid  the  bells 
Of  the  twilight  asphodels  ; 
But  because  a  charm  more  rare 
Glorifies  the  mellow  air, 
In  the  gleam  of  lifted  eyes, 
In  the  tranquil  ecstasies 
Of  two  lovers,  leaf-embowered, 

Lingering  there, 

Each  of  those  fair  lives  hath  flowered, 
Like  the  lily-petals  finely, 
Like  the  asphodel  divinely. 

THE  SOLITARY  LAKE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 
FROM  garish  light  and  life  apart, 
Shrined  in  the  woodland's  secret  heart, 


THE  SOLITARY  LAKE  323 

With  delicate  mists  of  morning  furled 
Fantastic  o'er  its  shadowy  world, 
The  lake,  a  vaporous  vision,  gleams 
So  vaguely  bright,  my  fancy  deems 
Tis  but  an  airy  lake  of  dreams. 

Dreamlike,  in  curves  of  palest  gold, 
The  wavering  mist-wreaths  manifold 
Part  in  long  rifts,  through  which  I  view 
Gray  islets  throned  in  tides  as  blue 
As  if  a  piece  of  heaven  withdrawn  — 
Whence  hints  of  sunrise  touch  the  dawn  — 
Had  brought  to  earth  its  sapphire  glow, 
And  smiled,  a  second  heaven,  below. 

Dreamlike,  in  fitful,  murmurous  sighs, 

I  hear  the  distant  west  wind  rise, 

And,  down  the  hollows  wandering,  break 

In  gurgling  ripples  on  the  lake, 

Round  which  the  vapors,  still  outspread, 

Mount  wanly  widening  overhead, 

Till  flushed  by  morning's  primrose-red. 

Dreamlike,  each  slow,  soft- pulsing  surge 
Hath  lapped  the  calm  lake's  emerald  verge, 
Sending,  where'er  its  tremors  pass, 
Low  whisperings  through  the  dew-wet  grass  ; 
Faint  thrills  of  fairy  sound  that  creep 
To  fall  in  neighboring  nooks  asleep, 
Or  melt  in  rich,  low  warblings  made 
By  some  winged  Ariel l  of  the  glade. 
With  brightening  morn  the  mockbird's  lay 
Grows  stronger,  mellower ;  far  away 
'Mid  dusky  reeds,  which  even  the  moon 
Lights  not,  the  lonely- hearted  loon 
Makes  answer,  her  shrill  music  shorn 

l  Cf.  Shakespeare's  "  Tempest." 


324  PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 

Of  half  its  sadness ;  day,  full-born, 
Doth  rout  all  sounds  and  sights  forlorn. 

Ah  !  still  a  something  strange  and  rare 
O'errules  this  tranquil  earth  and  air, 
Casting  o'er  both  a  glamour  known 
To  their  enchanted  realm  alone ; 
Whence  shines,  as  'twere  a  spirit's  face, 
The  sweet  coy  genius  of  the  place, 
Yon  lake  beheld  as  if  in  trance, 
The  beauty  of  whose  shy  romance 
I  feel  —  whatever  shores  and  skies 
May  charm  henceforth  my  wondering  eyes, 
Shall  rest,  undimmed  by  taint  or  stain, 
'Mid  lonely  byways  of  the  brain, 
There,  with  its  haunting  grace,  to  seem 
Set  in  the  landscape  of  a  dream. 


ASPECTS   OF   THE   PINES 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

TALL,  sombre,  grim,  against  the  morning  sky 
They  rise,  scarce  touched  by  melancholy  airs, 

Which  stir  the  fadeless  foliage  dreamfully, 
As  if  from  realms  of  mystical  despairs. 

Tall,  sombre,  grim,  they  stand  with  dusky  gleams 
Brightening  to  gold  within  the  woodland's  core, 

Beneath  the  gracious  noontide's  tranquil  beams  — 
But  the  weird  winds  of  morning  sigh  no  more. 

A  stillness,  strange,  divine,  ineffable, 

Broods  round  and  o'er  them  in  the  wind's  surcease, 
And  on  each  tinted  copse  and  shimmering  dell 

Rests  the  mute  rapture  of  deep-hearted  peace. 


THE    WOODLAND  PHASES  325 

Last,  sunset  comes  —  the  solemn  joy  and  might 

Borne  from  the  West  when  cloudless  day  declines  — 

Low,  flutelike  breezes  sweep  the  waves  of  light, 
And  lifting  dark  green  tresses  of  the  pines, 

Till  every  lock  is  luminous  —  gently  float, 
Fraught  with  hale  odors  up  the  heavens  afar 

To  faint  when  twilight  on  her  virginal  throat 
Wears  for  a  gem  the  tremulous  vesper  star. 

THE   WOODLAND   PHASES 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

YON  woodland,  like  a  human  mind, 

Hath  many  a  phase  of  dark  and  bright ; 

Now  dim  with  shadows,  wandering  blind, 
Now  radiant  with  fair  shapes  of  light. 

They  softly  come,  they  softly  go, 

Capricious  as  the  vagrant  wind, 
Nature's  vague  thoughts  in  gloom  or  glow, 

That  leave  no  airiest  trace  behind. 

No-  trace,  no  trace  !  yet  wherefore  thus 

Do  shade  and  beam  our  spirits  stir  ? 
Ah  !  Nature  may  be  cold  to  us, 

But  we  are  strangely  moved  by  her. 

The  wild  bird's  strain,  the  breezy  spray, 
Each  hour  with  sure  earth-changes  rife 

Hint  more  than  all  the  sages  say, 
Or  poets  sing  of  death  and  life. 

For  truths  half  drawn  from  Nature's  breast, 
Through  subtlest  types  of  form  and  tone, 

Outweigh  what  man,  at  most,  hath  guessed 
While  heeding  his  own  heart  alone. 


326  PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 

And  midway,  betwixt  heaven  and  us, 
Stands  Nature  in  her  fadeless  grace, 

Still  pointing  to  our  Father's  house, 
His  glory  on  her  mystic  face. 

OVER  THE  WATERS 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I 
OVER  the  crystal  waters 

She  leans  in  careless  grace, 
Smiling  to  view  within  them 
Her  own  fair  happy  face. 

ii 
The  waves  that  glass  her  beauty 

No  tiniest  ripple  stirs  : 
What  human  heart  thus  coldly 

Could  mirror  grace  like  hers  ? 

TO  HENRY  W.   LONGFELLOW 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  THINK  earth's  noblest,  most  pathetic  sight 

Is  some  old  poet,  round  whose  laurel-crown 

The  long  gray  locks  are  streaming  softly  down ;  — 

Whose  evening,  touched  by  prescient  shades  of  night, 

Grows  tranquillized,  in  calm,  ethereal  light :  — 

Such,  such  art  thou,  O  master  !  worthier  grown 

In  the  fair  sunset  of  thy  full  renown,  — 

Poising,  perchance,  thy  spiritual  wings  for  flight ! 

Ah,  heaven !  why  shouldst  thou  from  thy  place  depart? 

God's  court  is  thronged  with  minstrels,  rich  with  song ; 

Even  now,  a  new  note  swells  the  immaculate  choir,  — 

But  thou,  whose  strains  have  filled  our  lives  so  long, 

Still  from  the  altar  of  thy  reverent  heart 

Let  golden  dreams  ascend,  and  thoughts  of  fire. 


THE  MOCKING-BIRDS!  327 


THE   MOCKING-BIRDS  I1 

OH  !  all  day  long  they  flood  with  song, 

The  forest  shades,  the  fields  of  light ; 
Heaven's  heart  is  stilled,  and  strangely  thrilled 

By  ecstasies  of  lyric  might ; 
From  flower-crowned  nooks  of  splendid  dyes, 

Lone  dells  a  shadowy  quiet  girds, 
Far  echoes  wakening,  gently  rise, 
And  o'er  the  woodland  track  send  back 

Soft  answers  to  the  mocking-birds  ! 

The  winds  in  awe,  no  gusty  flaw 

Dare  breathe  in  rhythmic  Beauty's  face ; 
Nearer  the  pale-gold  cloudlets  draw 

Above  a  charmed,  melodious  place. 
Entranced  Nature  listening  knows 

No  music  set  to  mortal  words, 
Nor  nightingales  that  woo  the  rose, 
Can  vie  with  these  deep  harmonies 

Poured  from  the  minstrel  mocking-birds  ! 

But  vaguely  seen  through  gulfs  of  green, 

We  glimpse  the  plumed  and  choral  throng ; 
Sole  poets  born,  whose  instincts  scorn 

To  do  Song's  lowliest  utterance  wrong  ! 
Whate'er  they  sing  a  sylvan  art, 

On  each  wild,  wood-born  note  conferred, 
Guides  the  hot  brain,  and  hurtling  heart ; 
Oh  !  magical  flame,  whence  pulsing,  came 

This  passion  of  the  mocking-bird  ? 

Aye !  .  .  .  pause  and  hark  !  ...  be  still,  and  mark 
What  countless  grades  of  voice  and  tone 

1  Kindly  furnished  for  the  present  volume  by  William  Hamilton  Hayne,  Esq. 
It  first  appeared  in  a  short-lived  magazine. 


328  PAUL  HA  MIL  TON  HA  YNE 

From  bosk  and  tree,  from  strand  and  sea, 
These  small,  winged  genii  make  their  own ; 

Fine  lyric  memories  live  again, 
From  tuneful  burial  disinterred  ; 

To  magnify  the  fiery  strain 

Which  quivering  trills,  and  smites  the  hills 
With  rapture  of  the  mocking-bird ! 

Aye  !  .  .  .  pause  and  hark !  ...  be  stitt,  and  mark 

How  downward  borne  from  Song's  high  clime  — 
(No  loftier  haunts  the  English  lark)  — 

They  revel  —  each  a  jocund  mime  — 
Their  glad  sides  shake,  in  bush  and  brake, 

And  farm-girls,  bowed  o'er  cream  and  curd, 
Glance  up  to  smile,  and  think  the  while, 
Of  all  blithe  things  that  flit  on  wings, 

None  match  the  jovial  mocking-bird  ! 

When  fun  protrudes  gay  interludes, 

Of  blissful,  glorious  unrestraint  — 
They  run,  all  wild  with  motley  moods, 

Thro'  Mirth's  rare  gamut,  sly  and  quaint ; 
Humors  grotesque,  and  arabesque, 

Flash  up  from  spirits  brightly  stirred  ; 
And  even  the  pedant  at  his  desk, 
Feeling  in  turn  his  spirit  burn, 

Laughs  with  the  loudest  mocking-bird  ! 

Oh  !  all  day  long  the  world  with  song 

Is  flooded,  till  the  twilight  dim  ; 
What  time  its  whole  mysterious  soul 

Seems  rippling  to  the  conscious  brim  : 
Arcadian  Eve  through  tranquil  skies 

Pastures  her  stars  in  radiant  herds ; 
And  still  the  unwearied  echoes  rise, 
And  down  a  silvery  track  send  back 

Fond  greeting  to  the  mocking-birds  ! 


JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE  329 

At  last  —  fair  boon  !  —  the  summer  moon 

Beyond  the  hazed  horizon  shines  ; 
Ah  !  soon  through  night  they  wing  their  flight 

To  coverts  of  ^Eolian  pines  ; 
A  tremulous  hush  !  .  .  .  then  sweet  and  grand 

(From  depths  the  dense,  fair  foliage  girds) 
Their  love  notes  fill  the  enchanted  land  ; 
Through  leaf-wrought  bars  they  storm  the  stars, 

These  love  songs  of  the  mocking-birds  1 


JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE 


[JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE  was  born  at  Winchester,  Virginia,  November  3,  1830, 
and  died  in  Clarke  County,  Virginia,  September  27,  1886.  He  was  a  brother 
of  Philip  Pendleton  Cooke  (q.  z>.).  He  left  school  early  and  studied  law  with 
his  father,  the  distinguished  jurist  John  Rogers  Cooke.  Literature  soon  en 
grossed  him,  however,  and  in  1854  he  published  three  books.  One  of 
these,  "The  Virginia  Comedians,"  is  probably  the  best  romance  written  by  a 
Southerner  before  the  Civil  War,  with  the  exception  of  the  chief  stories  of 
Simms  and  Kennedy.  It  is  mentioned  in  most  histories  of  American  litera 
ture,  and  is  perhaps  the  only  one  of  its  author's  many  attempts  at  fiction  that 
still  shows  signs  of  vitality.  Four  stories  followed,  including  "  Henry  St.  John, 
Gentleman,"  a  sequel  to  "The  Virginia  Comedians  "  (1859),  and  then  the 
Civil  War  gave  a  new  turn  to  Cooke's  life.  He  entered  the  army  as  a  private 
in  the  artillery  and  was  later,  as  captain,  transferred  to  the  cavalry,  serving 
under  Stuart  and  being  engaged  in  most  of  the  battles  fought  by  the  great 
army  of  Northern  Virginia.  His  well-deserved  promotion  as  major  was  not 
acted  on  favorably  by  the  Confederate  Senate.  Even  in  the  midst  of  the 
struggle  he  wrote  a  "  Life  of  Stonewall  Jackson."  Immediately  after  the  war 
was  over  he  returned  to  fiction  and  drew  upon  his  experiences  in  a  series  of 
military  stories  full  of  action,  and  thus  attractive  to  youthful  readers,  but  too 
highly  colored  and  too  rapidly  written  to  be  worthy  of  obtaining  a  permanent 
position  in  literature.  The  first  and  one  of  the  most  popular  of  these  later 
stories  was  "  Surry  of  Eagle's  Nest"  (1866),  which  was  followed  by"  Wearing 
of  the  Gray,"  "  Mohun,"  and  a  long  list  of  titles  that  need  not  be  given.  He 
varied  his  themes,  and  in  some  later  stories  he  returned  to  the  Colonial  times 
in  which  he  had  won  his  first  success  ;  but,  as  he  admitted  frankly,  the  work 
of  the  new  realistic  novelists  had  spoiled  the  market  for  his  old-fashioned 
literary  wares.  He  kept  up  the  fight,  however,  with  splendid  energy  to  the 
last,  and  not  long  before  his  death  he  contributed  to  the  series  of  "  American 


330  JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE 

Commonwealths  "  an  elaborate  account  of  the  history  of  Virginia  during  the 
Colonial  and  Revolutionary  periods  (1883).  His  career  was  both  honorable 
and  instructive,  and  his  name  will  doubtless  be  remembered  not  only  for  his 
faithful  labors  and  his  best-known  romance,  but  also  for  the  simple  poem 
given  in  these  extracts.1] 


AN   INTERIOR  WITH   PORTRAITS2 

[FROM  "  THE  VIRGINIA  COMEDIANS,  OR  OLD  DAYS  IN  THE  OLD  DOMINION." 
EDITION  OF  1883.] 

ON  a  splendid  October  afternoon,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1 763, 
two  persons  who  will  appear  frequently  in  this  history  were  seated 
in  the  great  dining-room  of  Effingham  Hall. 

But  let  us  first  say  a  few  words  of  this  old  mansion.  Efnngham 
Hall  was  a  stately  edifice  not  far  from  William sburg,  which,  as 
everybody  knows,  was  at  that  period  the  capital  city  of  the  colony 
of  Virginia.  The  hall  was  constructed  of  elegant  brick  brought 
over  from  England :  and  from  the  great  portico  in  front  of  the 
building  a  beautiful  rolling  country  of  hills  and  valleys,  field  and 
forest,  spread  itself  pleasantly  before  the  eye,  bounded  far  off 
along  the  circling  belt  of  woods  by  the  bright  waters  of  the  noble 
river. 

Entering  the  large  hall  of  the  old  house,  you  had  before  you, 
walls  covered  with  deer's  antlers,  fishing-rods,  and  guns  :  portraits 
of  cavaliers,  and  dames  and  children  :  even  carefully  painted  pic 
tures  of  celebrated  race-horses,  on  whose  speed  and  bottom  many 
thousands  of  pounds  had  been  staked  and  lost  and  won  in  their 
day  and  generation. 

On  one  side  of  the  hall  a  broad  staircase  with  oaken  balustrade 

1  Cooke's  "  My  Lady   Pocahontas "    (1885)    deals  with   the   Indian   Princess. 
"The  Virginia  Comedians"  (1854),  "  The  Youth  of  Jefferson  "  (1854),  "  The  Last 
of  the  Foresters"  (1856),  "Fairfax"  (1868),  and  "Doctor  Vandyke"  (1872)  are 
stories  of  Virginia  in  the  years  preceding  the   Revolution.     "  Henry  St.   John " 
(1859)  describes  the  Revolution,  while  "  Canolles  "  (1877)  is  a  story  of  Cornwallis's 
Virginia  campaign.     "  Leather  Stocking  and  Silk"  (1854)  is  a  story  of  the  Valley 
of  Virginia  about  1800. 

2  Copyright,  1883.  by  D.  Appleton  &  Co.    By  kind  permission  of  D.  Appleton 
&  Co.     The  extract  forms  Chapter  I.  of  the  romance. 


AN  INTERIOR  WITH  PORTRAITS        331 

led  to  the  numerous  apartments  above  :  and  on  the  opposite  side, 
a  door  gave  entrance  into  the  great  dining-room. 

The  dining-room  was  decorated  with  great  elegance :  —  the 
carved  oak  wainscot  extending  above  the  mantelpiece  in  an  un 
broken  expanse  of  fruits  and  flowers,  hideous  laughing  faces,  and 
long  foamy  surges  to  the  cornice.  The  furniture  was  in  the  Louis 
Quatorze  style,  which  the  reader  is  familiar  with,  from  its  repro 
duction  in  our  own  day ;  and  the  chairs  were  the  same  low-seated 
affairs,  with  high  carved  backs,  which  are  now  seen.  There  were 
Chelsea  figures,  and  a  sideboard  full  of  plate,  and  a  Japan  cabinet, 
and  a  Kidderminster  carpet,  and  huge  andirons.  On  the  andirons 
crackled  a  few  twigs  lost  in  the  great  country  fireplace. 

On  the  wall  hung  a  dozen  pictures  of  gay  gallants,  brave  war 
riors,  and  dames,  whose  eyes  outshone  their  diamonds :  —  and 
more  than  one  ancestor  looked  grimly  down,  clad  in  a  cuirass  and 
armlet,  and  holding  in  his  mailed  hand  the  sword  which  had  done 
bloody  service  in  its  time.  The  lady  portraits,  as  an  invariable 
rule,  were  decorated  with  sunset  clouds  of  yellow  lace  —  the  bright 
locks  were  powdered,  and  many  little  black  patches  set  off  the 
dazzling  fairness  of  the  rounded  chins.  Lapdogs  nestled  on  the 
satin  laps ;  and  not  one  of  the  gay  dames  but  seemed  to  be  smil 
ing,  with  her  head  bent  sidewise  fascinatingly  on  the  courtly  or 
warlike  figures  ranged  with  them  in  a  long  glittering  line. 

These  portraits  are  worth  looking  up  to,  but  those  which  we 
promised  the  reader  are  real. 

In  one  of  the  carved  chairs,  if  anything  more  uncomfortable 
than  all  the  rest,  sits,  or  rather  lounges,  a  young  man  of  about 
twenty-five.  He  is  very  richly  clad,  and  in  a  costume  which 
would  be  apt  to  attract  a  large  share  of  attention  in  our  own  day, 
when  dress  seems  to  have  become  a  mere  covering,  and  the 
prosaic  tendencies  of  the  age  are  to  despise  everything  but  what 
ministers  to  actual  material  pleasure. 

The  gentleman  before  us  lives  fortunately  one  hundred  years 
before  our  day  :  and  suffers  from  an  opposite  tendency  in  costume. 
His  head  is  covered  with  a  long  flowing  peruke,  heavy  with  pow 
der,  and  the  drop  curls  hang  down  on  his  cheeks  ambrosially : 
his  cheeks  are  delicately  rouged,  and  two  patches,  arranged  with 


332  JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE 

matchless  art,  complete  the  distinguished  tout  ensemble  of  the 
handsome  face.  At  breast,  a  cloud  of  lace  reposes  on  the  rich 
embroidery  of  his  figured  satin  waistcoat,  reaching  to  his  knees ;  — 
this  lace  is  point  de  Venise 1  and  white,  that  fashion  having  come 
in  just  one  month  since.  The  sleeves  of  his  rich  doublet  are 
turned  back  to  his  elbows,  and  are  as  large  as  a  bushel  —  the 
opening  being  filled  up,  however,  with  long  ruffles,  which  reach 
down  over  the  delicate  jewelled  hand.  He  wears  silk  stockings 
of  spotless  white,  and  his  feet  are  cased  in  slippers  of  Spanish 
leather,  adorned  with  diamond  buckles.  Add  velvet  garters  below 
the  knee  :  —  a  little  muff  of  leopard-skin  reposing  near  at  hand 
upon  a  chair  —  not  omitting  a  snuff-box  peeping  from  the  pocket, 
and  Mr.  Champ  Effingham,  just  from  Oxford  and  his  grand  tour, 
is  before  you  with  his  various  surroundings. 

He  is  reading  the  work  which  some  time  since  attained  to  such 
extreme  popularity,  Mr.  Joseph  Addison's  serial,  "The  Spectator," 
—  collected  now  for  its  great  merits,  into  bound  volumes.  Mr. 
Effingham  reads  with  a  languid  air,  just  as  he  sits,  and  turns  over 
the  leaves  with  an  ivory  paper  cutter,  which  he  brought  from 
Venice  with  the  plate  glass  yonder  on  the  sideboard  near  the 
silver  baskets  and  pitchers.  This  languor  is  too  perfect  to  be 
wholly  affected,  and  when  he  yawns,  as  he  does  frequently,  Mir. 
Effingham  applies  himself  to  that  task  very  earnestly. 

In  one  of  these  paroxysms  of  weariness  the  volume  slips  from 
his  hand  to  the  floor. 

"  My  book,"  he  says  to  a  negro  boy,  who  had  just  brought  in 
some  dishes.  The  boy  hastens  respectfully  to  obey  —  crossing 
the  whole  width  of  the  room  for  that  purpose.  Mr.  Effingham 
then  continues  reading. 

Now  for  the  other  occupant  of  the  apartment.  She  sits  near 
the  open  window,  looking  out  upon  the  lawn  and  breathing  the 
pure  delicious  air  of  October  as  she  works.  She  is  clad  in  the 
usual  child's  costume  of  the  period  (she  is  only  eleven  or  twelve) , 
namely,  a  sort  of  half  coat,  half  frock,  reaching  scarcely  below  the 
knees;  an  embroidered  undervest ;  scarlet  silk  stockings  with 
golden  clocks,  and  little  resetted  shoes  with  high  red  heels.  Her 
1  Le.  Venetian  point  lace. 


THE  BAND  IN  THE  PINES  333 

hair  is  unpowdered,  and  hangs  in  curls  upon  her  neck  and  bare 
shoulders.  Her  little  fingers  are  busily  at  work  upon  a  piece  of 
embroidery  which  represents  or,  is  to  represent  a  white  water  dog 
upon  an  intensely  emerald  background,  and  she  addresses  herself 
to  this  occupation  with  a  business  air  which  is  irresistibly  amus 
ing,  and  no  less  pleasant  to  behold.  There  is  about  the  child,  in 
her  movements,  attitude,  expression,  everything,  a  freshness  and 
innocence  which  is  only  possessed  by  children.  This  is  Miss  Kate 
Effingham,  whose  parents  died  in  her  infancy,  for  which  reason  the 
little  sunbeam  was  taken  by  the  squire,  her  father's  brother. 

Kate  seems  delighted  with  the  progress  she  has  made  in  deline 
ating  Carlo,  as  she  calls  him,  and  pauses  a  moment  to  survey  her 
brilliant  handiwork.  She  then  opens  her  ivory  decorated  work- 
box  to  select  another  shade  of  silk,  holding  it  on  her  lap  by  the 
low-silled  open  window. 

But  disastrous  event !  Just  as  she  had  found  what  she  wanted, 
just  as  she  had  procured  the  exact  shade  for  Carlo's  ears,  just  as 
she  closed  the  pretty  box,  full  of  all  manner  of  little  elegant 
instruments  of  needle-work  —  she  heard  an  impatient  exclamation 
of  weariness  and  disdain,  something  fluttered  through  the  air,  and 
this  something  striking  the  handsome  box  delicately  balanced  on 
Kate's  knee,  precipitated  it,  with  its  whole  contents,  through  the 
window  to  the  lawn  beneath. 

The  explanation  of  this  sudden  event  is,  that  Mr.  Effingham  has 
become  tired  of  "  The  Spectator,"  hurled  it  sidewise  from  him  with 
out  looking ;  and  thus  the  volume  has,  after  its  habit,  produced  a 
decided  sensation,  throwing  the  work-box  upon  the  lawn,  and  Kate 
into  utter  despair. 

THE   BAND   IN   THE   PINES 

HEARD  AFTER  PELHAM  *  DIED 

OH,  band  in  the  pine-wood  cease  ! 

Cease  with  your  splendid  call ; 
The  living  are  brave  and  noble, 

But  the  dead  are  bravest  of  all ! 

1  For  Pelham,  see  note  2  on  page  359. 


JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE 

They  throng  to  the  martial  summons, 

To  the  loud  triumphant  strain, 
And  the  dear  bright  eyes  of  long  dead  friends 

Come  to  the  heart  again ! 

They  come  with  the  ringing  bugle, 
And  the  deep  drums'  mellow  roar ; 

Till  the  soul  is  faint  with  longing 
For  the  hands  we  clasp  no  more  ! 

Oh,  band  in  the  pine- wood  cease  ! 

Or  the  heart  will  melt  with  tears, 
For  the  gallant  eyes  and  the  smiling  lips? 

And  the  voices  of  old  years. 


POETS   OF  THE    CIVIL    WAR  335 


POETS   OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

PEACE  had  scarcely  been  proclaimed  before  the  songs  and  poems  which  had 
done  so  much  to  nerve  both  sides  in  the  great  struggle  were  collected  into 
volumes  from  the  newspapers  and  magazines  in  which  they  first  appeared. 
Many  of  them,  having  served  their  temporary  purpose,  have  been  forgotten, 
not  on  account  of  any  want  of  true  feeling,  but  mainly  on  account  of  their 
lack  of  distinction  in  point  of  style.  A  few,  such  as  Randall's  "  My  Mary 
land,"  Pike's  "  Dixie,"  Mrs.  Beers's  "  All  Quiet  along  the  Potomac,"  and 
Mrs.  Howe's  "  The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,"  are  still  remembered,  not 
merely  by  the  people  of  either  section,  but  by  most  persons  interested  in  Ameri 
can  literature.  If  to  the  songs  that  have  survived  we  add  the  poems  dealing 
with  the  war  written  by  professed,  not  occasional,  poets,  —  such  poems  as  the 
martial  lyrics  of  Timrod  and  Hayne  and  the  descriptive  poems  of  Henry 
Howard  Brownell,  —  we  shall  perceive  that  the  Civil  War  added  to  the  stock 
of  American  poetry  a  mass  of  verse,  sufficient  both  in  quantity  and  in  quality  to 
warrant  a  fair  amount  of  attention  from  the  historian  and  the  critic  of  litera 
ture.  It  is  marked  by  a  deep  sincerity,  and  on  the  Southern  side  especially, 
by  an  intensity  of  emotion  that  somewhat  hampers  cool  criticism.  Little  of 
it,  perhaps,  rises  to  the  level  of  high  art  —  is  comparable,  for  example,  with 
such  an  admirable  martial  lyric  as  Campbell's  "  Hohenlinden  "  ;  but  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  Southerners  to  think  that  at  least  two  of  their  poets,  Timrod  and 
Randall,  produced  in  the  "  Ode  "  for  the  Confederate  Dead  in  Magnolia  Ceme 
tery  and  in  "  My  Maryland  "  poems  that  will  bear  comparison  with  the  best 
pieces  of  their  kind  in  the  world's  literature.  The  first  is  as  perfect  in  its 
tone  and  workmanship  as  though  it  had  come  out  of  the  Greek  Anthology  ; 
the  second  need  fear  comparison  in  point  of  stirring  qualities  with  no  poetic 
call  to  arms  since  the  days  of  Tyrtaeus. 

One  of  the  earliest  of  the  Southern  collections,  if  not  the  very  earliest,  was 
"  War  Lyrics  and  Songs  of  the  South,"  published  in  London  in  1866.  It  was 
edited  by  Southern  women  in  the  hope  that  through  the  sale  a  fund  might  be 
secured  for  the  relief  of  crippled  soldiers.  The  first  poem  was  "  Stonewall 
Jackson's  Grave,"  by  Mrs.  Margaret  J.  Preston  ;  twenty  pages  later  came 
Dr.  John  Williamson  Palmer's  spirited  "  Stonewall  Jackson's  Way,"  the 
authorship  of  which  was  not  known  to  the  editors  ;  Ticknor's  "  Virginians  of 
the  Valley  "  was  properly  credited,  but  General  Henry  R.  Jackson's  pathetic 
"  My  Wife  and  Child,"  written  during  the  Mexican  War,  was  given  to  the 
more  famous  Jackson  with,  however,  his  initials  transposed ;  Father  Ryan's 
"Conquered  Banner"  still  appeared  under  the  nom  de  plume  "Moina"; 


336  POETS   OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR 

Simms  was  more  easily  recognized  by  the  initials  "  W.  G.  S."  ;  the  well- 
known  lines  purporting  to  have  been  written  upon  the  back  of  a  Confederate 
note  in  the  form  of  a  parody  of  Wolfe's  "  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore  "  were  still 
without  a  claimant  ;  most  of  the  other  poems,  especially  the  collection  at  the 
close  of  the  volume  due  to  a  single  Kentucky  hand,  scarcely  rose  above  medi 
ocrity.  The  next  year  two  collections  of  Southern  war  poetry  appeared,  one 
edited  in  excellent  spirit  by  the  veteran  author,  Simms ;  the  other,  under  the 
title  of  "  The  Southern  Poems  of  the  War,"  edited  by  Miss  Emily  V.  Mason 
of  Virginia.  The  latter  has  proved  comparatively  popular,  its  fifth  revised 
and  enlarged  edition  bearing  the  date  1889.  In  its  five  hundred  or  more 
pages  practically  all  the  war  poets  are  well  represented,  —  Mrs.  Preston  ;  Dr. 
John  Dickson  Bruns,  the  friend  of  Timrod  ;  Timrod  himself ;  Severn  Teakle 
Wallis,  the  distinguished  Baltimore  lawyer  and  writer  ;  the  versatile  George 
H.  Miles  of  Maryland,  whose  "  God  Save  the  South "  and  "  Coming  at 
Last "  were  very  popular ;  William  Gordon  McCabe,  so  widely  known  as 
an  educator ;  James  Barron  Hope*,  Virginia's  official  poet  on  important 
occasions  ;  Mrs.  Annie  Chambers  Ketchurn  of  Kentucky  ;  the  poet  and 
editor  and  friend  of  Poe,  John  R.  Thompson  ;  the  author  of  "  My  Mary 
land,"  James  Ryder  Randall  ;  Paul  Hayne  ;  Albert  Pike  ;  "  Father  "  Ryan  ; 
Dr.  Francis  O.  Ticknor  ;  Henry  Lynden  Flash,  whose  short  tribute  to  "  Stone 
wall"  Jackson  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  many  written,  and  whose  lines 
"  Zollicoffer "  are  full  of  simple  appeal ;  Daniel  Bedinger  Lucas,  author  of 
"  The  Land  Where  We  Were  Dreaming  "  ;  and  many  another  patriotic  poet  or 
versifier  inspired  by  some  great  occasion. 

There  are  other  collections,  —  for  example,  "The  Southern  Amaranth," 
edited,  in  1868,  by  Miss  Sally  A.  Brock  of  Virginia,  —  and  there  are  essays  de 
voted  to  the  poetry  of  the  Civil  War  which  the  student  interested  in  the  sub 
ject  may  consult  at  his  leisure.  It  must  suffice  here  to  recommend  him  to  read 
the  interesting  paper,  "  The  Songs  of  the  Civil  War,"  contributed  by  Professor 
Brander  Matthews  to  the  Century  and  later  collected  in  his  volume  entitled 
"  Pen  and  Ink."  In  this  essay,  among  other  things,  will  be  found  a  full 
account  of  how  Mr.  Randall  came  to  write  "  My  Maryland,"  and  how  its  stir 
ring  air  was  fitted  to  it.  It  is  needless  to  add,  in  conclusion,  that  considerations 
of  space  have  alone  prevented  the  insertion  of  such  excellent  lyrics  as  Palmer's 
"  Stonewall  Jackson's  Way,"  Flash's l  "  Stonewall  Jackson,"  and  Will  Henry 

1  Mr.  Flash,  who  appears  to  be  still  living  at  Los  Angeles,  California,  at  the  age 
of  seventy,  collected  his  poems  in  1860.  A  rather  full  description  of  his  interesting 
work  as  a  poet  —  much  of  it  of  a  brilliant,  impromptu  kind  —  is  given  in  Davidson's 
"Living  Writers  of  the  South."  This  book,  which  will  be  discussed  later  (see 
P-  S?6) ,  reminds  us  of  the  fact  that  during  the  war,  besides  martial  poetry,  the  South 
produced  a  fair  amount  of  fiction  and  supported  several  strictly  literary  periodicals, 
such  as  The  Magnolia  Weekly,  and  The  Age  of  Richmond,  The  Southern  Monthly 
of  Memphis,  and  The  Southern  Field  and  Fireside  of  Augusta,  which  offered  prizes 
for  stories  and  poems.  Among  the  journalists  and  novelists  may  be  named  Charles 


MRS.    MARGARET  JUNKIN  PRESTON  337 

Thompson's  "The  High  Tide  at  Gettysburg."  They  can  all  be  found  in  Sted- 
man's  "  American  Anthology,"  and  the  first  two  in  the  Stedman-Hutchinson 
"  Library  of  American  Literature."  The  authors  of  these  lyrics  proved  by 
other  poems  of  the  war,  and  by  their  ability  to  deal  with  other  themes,  that 
their  best-known  pieces  were  not  mere  accidental  successes.  On  the  contrary, 
there  are  good  lyrics,  such  as  "  I  give  my  soldier  boy  a  blade,"  the  authors 
of  which  have  escaped  detection  by  the  makers  of  anthologies. 


MRS.    MARGARET  JUNKIN   PRESTON 

[MARGARET  JUNKIN  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  May  19,  1820,  and  died 
in  Baltimore,  March  29,  I897.1  She  was  a  daughter  of  the  distinguished 
Presbyterian  clergyman,  Rev.  Dr.  George  Junkin  (1790-1868),  founder  of 
Lafayette  College  at  Easton,  Pennsylvania,  and  from  1848  to  1861  president 
of  Washington  College  (now  Washington  and  Lee  University),  at  Lexington, 
Virginia.  Her  father  superintended  her  education  and  gave  her  an  unusual 
training  in  the  classics.  She  early  showed  her  bent  for  literature,  and  in 
1855  she  translated  the  great  Latin  hymn  Dies  Ira.  About  this  time  she 
also  published  a  little-read  novel,  "  Silverwood,  a  Book  of  Memories,"  but  in 
the  main  her  writing  took  the  form  of  verse.  In  1857  she  married  Professor 
J.  T.  L.  Preston  of  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  at  Lexington,  a  former 
schoolmate  of  Poe,  whose  reminiscences  of  that  poet  are  of  value.  When  the 
war  came  on,  her  father  resigned  and  went  North ;  but  Mrs.  Preston  sided 
heartily  with  her  husband  and  the  South.  She  made  her  permanent  home  at 
Lexington,  contributing  much  to  the  culture  of  that  historic  college  town. 
She  published  many  poems  dealing  with  events  of  the  struggle  and  with  the 
aspirations  of  the  Southern  people,  and  in  "  Beechenbrook,"  a  story  in  verse 
issued  in  1866,  she  gave  a  picture  of  the  war  that  was  very  popular,  reaching, 
it  is  said,  eight  editions  in  a  year.  It  contained  a  pathetic  lyric,  "  Slain  in 

Dimitry,  James  D.  McCabe,  Jr.,  a  biographer  as  well,  and  one  of  the  editors  and 
writers  of  a  Christmas  book,  "  The  Bohemian  "  (1863)  ;  John  W.  Overall,  connected 
with  the  New  Orleans  Delta,  and  founder  of  The  Southern  Punch  at  Richmond ; 
Professor  William  H.  Peck,  a  voluminous  writer  of  sensational  novels  ;  and  Edward 
A.  Pollard,  well  known  for  numerous  historical  and  biographical  works  dealing 
with  the  war.  A  thorough  monograph  on  the  literary  history  of  the  Confederacy, 
which  should  include  an  account  of  the  difficulties  under  which  books  and 
newspapers  were  printed,  of  the  translations  of  foreign  novels  that  were  made,  and 
similar  topics,  would  be  a  worthy  undertaking.  Mr.  Yates  Snowden  in  a  sketch 
entitled  "  Confederate  Books,"  and  Professor  S.  B.  Weeks  in  his  bibliography  of 
Confederate  text-books  printed  in  the  report  of  the  Commissioner  of  Education 
for  1898-1899  have  broken  the  ground  excellently. 
1  These  are  the  dates  given  in  the  official  biography. 
Z 


338  MRS.  MARGARET  JUNKIN  PRESTON 

Battle,"  that  is  quoted  still.  In  1870,  after  many  of  her  poems  had  been  in 
cluded  in  anthologies  of  war  poetry,  she  collected  a  volume  of  her  more  elaborate 
verses  under  the  title  "  Old  Song  and  New."  This  collection  was  favorably 
received  both  in  the  North  and  in  the  South,  especially  on  account  of  its  artistic 
workmanship.  Several  other  volumes  followed,  — "  Cartoons"  (1875),  "  For 
Love's  Sake"  (1886),  and  "Colonial  Ballads,  Sonnets,  and  Other  Verse"  (1887). 
She  also  collected  her  impressions  of  European  travel  in  "A  Handful  of 
Monographs"  (1886).  Her  treatment  of  historical  and  artistic  themes  won 
critical  appreciation,  but  it  was  her  poetry  of  the  Civil  War,  for  she  was  plainly 
the  representative  woman  singer  of  the  Confederacy,  and  her  devotional  verse 
that  secured  her,  particularly  in  the  South,  the  favor  of  the  reading  public. 
Among  her  best  religious  poems  may  be  named  "  A  Year  in  Heaven,"  "  For 
Love's  Sake,"  "  By-and-By,"  "The  Daily  Drill,"  and  " Chiselwork."  Among 
her  artistic  poems  "  Mona  Lisa  "  and  "  The  Childhood  of  the  Old  Masters," 
highly  praised  by  the  English  poetess,  Jean  Ingelow,  may  be  taken  as  repre 
sentative.  Her  friend  Paul  Hayne  (<?.f.)  regarded  her  as  an  excellent  writer 
of  sonnets,  and  among  her  best  achievements  in  this  form  may  perhaps  be 
cited  "  Sit  Jessica  "  and  "  The  Morrow."  Mrs.  Preston  kept  up  a  large  cor 
respondence  with  distinguished  writers  both  in  America  and  in  England.  See 
her  "  Life  and  Letters  "  edited  by  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Preston  Allan l 
(1903),  with  its  critical  appendix  by  Professor  J.  A.  Harrison,  and  also  the 
appreciative  essay  by  Mrs.  Janie  McTyeire  Baskervill,  in  "  Southern  Writers," 
second  series  (1903).] 

1  From  this  interesting  volume  three  stanzas  taken  from  what  seems  to  have  been 
Mrs.  Preston's  last  poem,  "  Euthanasia,"  which  was  written  on  her  blind  slate,  may 
be  quoted  as  a  slight  specimen  of  her  devotional  poetry,  the  form  of  her  work  that 
was  nearest  her  heart. 

"  To  kneel,  all  my  service  complete, 

All  duties  accomplished,  and  then 
To  finish  my  orisons  sweet 
With  a  trustful  and  joyous  'Amen.' 


'  Without  a  farewell  or  a  tear, 

A  sob  or  a  flutter  of  breath ; 
Unharmed  by  the  phantom  of  Fear, 

To  glide  through  the  darkness  of  death ! 

1  Just  so  would  I  choose  to  depart, 
Just  so  let  the  summons  be  given ; 

A  quiver —  a  pause  of  the  heart  — 
A  vision  of  angels  —  then  heaven." 


GONE  FORWARD  339 

GONE   FORWARD1 
[FROM  "  CARTOONS,'"  1875.2] 

I 

YES,  "  Let  the  tent  be  struck :  "  Victorious  morning 

Through  every  crevice  flashes  in  a  day 
Magnificent  beyond  all  earth's  adorning : 

The  night  is  over  ;  wherefore  should  he  stay  ? 

And  wherefore  should  our  voices  choke  to  say, 
"  The  General  has  gone  forward  "  ? 

ii 

Life's  foughten  field  not  once  beheld  surrender ; 

But  with  superb  endurance,  present,  past, 
Our  pure  Commander,  lofty,  simple,  tender, 

Through  good,  through  ill,  held  his  high  purpose  fast, 

Wearing  his  armor  spotless,  —  till  at  last, 
Death  gave  the  final,  " Forward" 

in 

All  hearts  grew  sudden  palsied :  Yet  what  said  he 

Thus  summoned  ?  —  "  Let  the  tent  be  struck  /  "  —  For  when 

Did  call  of  duty  fail  to  find  him  ready 
Nobly  to  do  his  work  in  sight  of  men, 
For  God's  and  for  his  country's  sake  —  and  then, 
To  watch,  wait,  or  go  forward  ? 

IV 

We  will  not  weep,  —  we  dare  not !     Such  a  story 
As  his  large  life  writes  on  the  century's  years, 
Should  crowd  our  bosoms  with  a  flush  of  glory, 

1  The  poem  is  founded  on  one  of  the  last  sentences  spoken  by  General  Lee. 

2  This  and  the  other  poems  of  Mrs.  Preston  quoted  are  copyrighted,  and  are 
here  printed  through  the  kindness  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Preston  Allan  and  of  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


340  MRS.  MARGARET  JUNK  IN  PRESTON 

That  manhood's  type,  supremest  that  appears 
To-day,  he  shows  the  ages.     Nay,  no  tears 
Because  he  has  gone  forward ! 


Gone  forward?  —  Whither?  —  Where  the  marshall'd  legions, 
Christ's  well-worn  soldiers,  from  their  conflicts  cease  ;  — 

Where  Faith's  true  Red-Cross  knights  repose  in  regions 
Thick-studded  with  the  calm,  white  tents  of'peace,  — 
Thither,  right  joyful  to  accept  release, 

The  General  has  gone  forward  ! 


THE   SHADE   OF  THE   TREES1  ' 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

WHAT  are  the  thoughts  that  are  stirring  his  breast? 

What  is  the  mystical  vision  he  sees  ? 
"  Let  us  pass  over  the  river  and  rest 

Under  the  shade  of  the  trees." 

Has  he  grown  sick  of  his  toils  and  his  tasks  ? 

Sighs  the  worn  spirit  for  respite  or  ease  ? 
Is  it  a  moment's  cool  halt  that  he  asks 

Under  the  shade  of  the  trees  ? 

Is  it  the  gurgle  of  waters  whose  flow 

Oft-time  has  come  to  him,  borne  on  the  breeze, 
Memory  listens  to,  lapsing  so  low, 

Under  the  shade  of  the  trees  ? 

Nay  —  though  the  rasp  of  the  flesh  was  so  sore, 
Faith,  that  had  yearnings  far  keener  than  these, 

Saw  the  soft  sheen  of  the  Thitherward  Shore, 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees ;  — 

1  The  poem  is  founded  on  the  last  words  of  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson. 


THE  HERO    OF  THE    COMMUNE  341 

Caught  the  high  psalms  of  ecstatic  delight,  — 

Heard  the  harps  harping,  like  soundings  of  seas,  — 

Watched  earth's  assorted  ones  walking  in  white 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees. 

O,  was  it  strange  he  should  pine  for  release, 

Touched  to  the  soul  with  such  transports  as  these,  — 

He  who  so  needed  the  balsam  of  peace, 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees  ? 

Yea,  it  was  noblest  for  him  —  it  was  best, 

(Questioning  naught  of  our  Father's  decrees,) 

There  to  pass  over  the  river  and  rest 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees  ! l 


THE    HERO   OF  THE   COMMUNE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

"  GARCON  !    You  — you 

Snared  along  with  this  cursed  crew? 
(Only  a  child,  and  yet  so  bold, 
Scarcely  as  much  as  ten  years  old  !) 

Do  you  hear?  do  you  know 
Why  the  gendarmes  put  you  there,  in  the  row, 
You,  with  those  Commune  wretches  tall, 

With  your  face  to  the  wall?  " 

"  Know  ?    To  be  sure  I  know !  why  not  ? 

We're  here  to  be  shot ; 
And  there,  by  the  pillar,  's  the  very  spot, 
Fighting  for  France,  my  father  fell : 

Ah,  well ! 
That's  just  the  way  /  would  choose  to  fall, 

With  my  back  to  the  wall !  " 

1  Mrs.  Preston  wrote  a  poem  entitled  "  Jackson's  Grave,"  and  it  is  needless  to 
say  that  probably  no  other  event  of  the  war  inspired  so  many  poets  as  the  death 
of  this  great  soldier. 


342  MRS.  MARGARET  JUNKIN  PRESTON 

("  Sacre  ! l  Fair,  open  fight,  I  say, 

Is  something  right  gallant  in  its  way, 

And  fine  for  warming  the  blood ;  but  who 

Wants  wolfish  work  like  this  to  do  ? 

Bah  !  'tis  a  butcher's  business  !)     How  ? 

(The  boy  is  beckoning  to  me  now : 

I  knew  that  his  poor  child's  heart  would  fail, 

.  .  .  Yet  his  cheek's  not  pale :) 
Quick  !  say  your  say,  for  don't  you  see, 
When  the  Church-clock  yonder  tolls  out  Three, 

You're  all  to  be  shot? 

...   What? 

'  Excuse  you  one  moment'  ?     O,  ho,  ho  ! 
Do  you  think  to  fool  a  gendarme  so?  " 

"  But,  sir,  here's  a  watch  that  a  friend,  one  day 
(My  father's  friend),  just  over  the  way, 
Lent  me ;  and  if  you'll  let  me  free, 

—  It  still  lacks  seven  minutes  of  Three,  — 
I'll  come,  on  the  word  of  a  soldier's  son, 
Straight  back  into  line,  when  my  errand's  done." 

"  Ha,  ha  !     No  doubt  of  it !     Off !     Begone  ! 
(Now,  good  Saint  Denis,  speed  him  on  ! 
The  work  will  be  easier  since  he's  saved ; 
For  I  hardly  see  how  I  could  have  braved 
The  ardor  of  that  innocent  eye, 

As  he  stood  and  heard, 

While  I  gave  the  word, 
Dooming  him  like  a  dog  to  die.") 

"  In  time  !     Well,  thanks,  that  my  desire 
Was  granted  ;  and  now,  I  am  ready  :  —  Fire  ! 
One  word  !  —  that's  all ! 

—  You'll  let  me  turn  my  back  to  the  wall  ?  " 

l  An  oath. 


DR.   FRANCIS  ORRERY   TICKNOR  343 

"  Parbleu  ! l     Come  out  of  the  line,  I  say, 
Come  out !  (who  said  that  his  name  was  Ney  ?) 
Ha  !  France  will  hear  of  him  yet  one  day  !  " 


DR.   FRANCIS    ORRERY   TICKNOR 

[DR.  TICKNOR  was  born  in  Baldwin  County,  Georgia,  in  1822,  and  died 
near  Columbus,  Georgia,  in  December,  1874.  He  came  of  mingled  New 
England  and  Southern  stock,  was  given  a  good  education  by  his  widowed 
mother,  studied  medicine  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  married  early,  and 
settled  on  a  farm  near  Columbus.  There,  at  "  Torch  Hill,"  he  led  the  life 
of  a  much  beloved  country  doctor.  He  had  two  special  passions,  the  culti 
vation  of  fruits  and  flowers  and  the  writing  of  poetry,  and  he  was  accomplished 
as  a  musician  and  a  draftsman.  His  success  as  a  horticulturist  and  his 
poems  secured  him  some  local  reputation,  and  "The  Viginians  of  the  Valley" 
and  "  Little  Giffen "  were  printed  in  the  chief  Southern  collections  of  war 
poetry.  He  was  only  an  occasional  poet,  however,  and  no  collection  of  his 
verses  was  made  until  1879,  when  one  appeared  with  an  introduction  by 
Hayne.  It  was  edited  by  Miss  Kate  Mason  Rowland,  since  known  as  the 
biographer  of  George  Mason  of  Virginia,  and  was  not  complete.  Perhaps 
with  more  leisure,  Ticknor  would  have  secured  a  considerably  higher  place  in 
Southern  literature;  yet  the  work  he  did,  despite  its  limitations,  ought  to  have 
given  him  more  fame  during  his  life  and  secured  him  much  more  consideration 
from  posterity  than  has  been  allotted  him.  For  criticism  of  Ticknor,  see 
Hayne's  "  Introductory  Notice "  and  Dr.  Samuel  A.  Link's  "  Pioneers  of 
Southern  Literature,"  No.  3.] 

LITTLE  GIFFEN  2 

OUT  of  the  focal  and  foremost  fire  — 
Out  of  the  hospital's  walls  as  dire  — 
Smitten  of  grape-shot  and  gangrene  — 
Eighteenth  battle  and  he  sixteen  — 
Spectre,  such  as  you  seldom  see 
Little  Giffen, of  Tennessee. 

1  A  mild  exclamation. 

2  The  text  of  all  the  poems  of  Dr.  Ticknor  quoted  in  this  volume  was  kindly 
furnished  by  his  daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  Leonore  M.  Ticknor  of  Columbus,  Georgia, 
with  whom  the  editor  was  put  in  communication  through  the  courtesy.of  Professor 
W.  L.  Weber.    All  the  poems  quoted  except  "  Page  Brook  "  are  to  be  found  with 
variations  in  the  volume  of  1879. 


344  DR-  FRANCIS   ORRERY   TICK  NOR 

Take  him  and  welcome,  the  surgeons  said, 
Not  the  Doctor  can  help  the  dead  !  — 
So  we  took  him  and  brought  him  where 
The  balm  was  sweet  in  our  summer  air, 
And  we  laid  him  down  on  a  wholesome  bed 
Utter  Lazarus,  heel  to  head  ! 

And  we  watched  the  war  with  abated  breath 
Skeleton  boy  against  skeleton  death  !  — 
Months  of  torture  how  many  such  !  — 
Weary  weeks  of  the  stick  and  crutch,  — 
And  still  a  glint  in  the  steel-blue  eye 
Told  of  a  spirit  that  wouldn't  die. 

And  didn't !  —  Nay  !  More  !  in  death's  despite 
The  crippled  skeleton  learned  to  write  — 
"  Dear  Mother  "  !  at  first,  of  course,  and  then 
"  Dear  Captain  "  !  —  enquiring  about  the  men  ! 
Captain's  answer  of  eighty  and  five, 
Giffen  and  I  are  left  alive  ! 

"  Johnson  pressed,  at  the  front  "  —  they  say  ;  — 

Little  Giffen  was  up  and  away  !  — 

A  tear,  his  first,  as  he  bade  good-bye 

Dimmed  the  glint  of  his  steel-blue  eye  ;  — 

"  I'll  write,  if  spared  !  "  —  there  was  news  of  fight 

But  none  of  Giffen  !  —  he  did  not  write  ! 

I  sometimes  fancy  that  were  I  King 
Of  the  courtly  knights  of  Arthur's  ring, 
With  the  voice  of  the  minstrel  in  mine  ear 
And  the  tender  legend  that  trembles  here  — 
I'd  give  the  best  on  his  bended  knee  — 
The  whitest  soul  of  my  chivalry  — 
For  Little  Giffen  of  Tennessee.1 

1  Dr.  Link  learned  from  a  member  of  the  Ticknor  family  that  the  story  here 
given  is  almost  literally  true.  The  boy  was  Isaac  Giffen,  the  son  of  an  East 
Tennessee  blacksmith.  He  was  brought  back  to  life  through  the  care  of  Dr.  and 


THE    VIRGINIANS   OF  THE  VALLEY  345 


THE  VIRGINIANS  OF  THE   VALLEY 

THE  Knightliest  of  the  Knightly  race, 

That  since  the  days  of  old, 

Have  kept  the  lamp  of  chivalry 

Alight  in  hearts  of  gold. 

The  kindliest  of  the  kindly  band 

That  rarely  hated  ease  ! 

That  rode  with  Raleigh l  round  the  land, 

With  Smith 2  around  the  seas. 

Who  climbed  the  blue  embattled  hills 

Against  uncounted  foes, 

And  planted  there,  in  valleys  fair, 

The  Lily  and  the  Rose  ! 

Whose  fragrance  lives  in  many  lands, 

Whose  beauty  stars  the  earth  ; 

And  lights  the  hearths  of  happy  homes 

With  loveliness  and  worth  ! 

We  thought  they  slept !  the  men  who  kept 

The  names  of  noble  sires, 

And  slumbered,  while  the  darkness  crept 

Around  their  vigil  fires  ! 

But  aye  !  the  golden  horse-shoe  3  Knights 

Their  Old  Dominion  keep, 

Whose  foes  have  found  enchanted  ground 

But  not  a  Knight  asleep. 

Mrs.  Ticknor.  It  is  believed  that  he  was  subsequently  killed  in  the  battles  around 
Atlanta.  His  career  is  a  remarkable  illustration  of  the  loyalty  shown  by  the  poorer 
classes  in  the  South  to  the  cause  of  the  Confederacy. 

1  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  never  came  to  Virginia. 

2  Captain  John  Smith  (q.v.). 

3  Golden  horseshoes  are  said  to  have  been  given  by  Governor  Spotswood  to  the 
gentlemen  who  accompanied  him  on  his  expedition  to  the  Valley  of  Virginia. 


346  DR.  FRANCIS   ORRERY  TICK  NOR 


VIRGINIA 

TREBLE  Triumph  to  thy  spears, 
Daughter  of  the  Cavaliers  ! 

Virginia  ! 

Let  the  timbrell  and  the  dance 
Tell  the  terrors  of  thy  lance,1 
Tell  thy  great  deliverance, 

Virginia  ! 

On  the  land  and  on  the  sea, 
Thou  hast  triumphed  gloriously,1 

Virginia  ! 

Loftier  head  of  haughtier  foe 
Laid  in  dust  of  battle,  low, 
Never  decked  thy  saddle-bow,1 

Virginia. 

Blazed  the  light  of  buried  years 
Awful  through  thy  blinding  tears, 

Virginia. 

Spirits  of  the  mighty  Dead 
Summoned  by  thy  battle-tread, 
Followed  where  thy  falchion  led, 

Virginia  ! 

Hand  to  hand  they  smote  again 
The  Savage  and  the  Saracen  ! 

Virginia  ! 

Heart  to  heart  as  son  and  sire, 
Sword  of  wrath  and  soul  of  fire, 
Swept  to  vengeance,  swift  and  dire, 

Virginia. 

1  The  comma  has  been  inserted  by  the  editor. 


LEE— UNKNOWN  347 

Mailed  in  thine  immortal  wrong, 
In  thy  matchless  sorrows,  strong ; 

Virginia ; 

Harness  thee  from  head  to  heel  — 
Gird  thee,  quarter-deck  to  keel 
In  massy  oak  and  sheeted  steel,1 

Virginia  ! 

First  in  Freedom's  fight  of  old  — 
Foremost,  now,  thou  heart  of  gold, 

Virginia  ! 

Forward  !  and  the  grace  that  flings 
The  heart  to  death  above  a  king's 
Shall  follow  where  thy  bugle  sings, 

Virginia. 

LEE 

THIS  wondrous  valley  !  hath  it  spells 

And  golden  alchemies  — 
That  so  its  chaliced  splendor  dwells 

In  these  imperial  eyes? 

This  man  hath  breathed  all  balms  of  light, 

And  quaffed  all  founts  of  grace, 
Till  Glory,  on  the  mountain  height, 

Has  met  him,  face  to  face ! 

Ye  kingly  hills  !  ye  dimpled  dells  ! 

Haunt  of  the  Eagle-Dove  ! 
Grant  us  your  wine  of  woven  spells, 

To  grow  like  Him  we  love. 

UNKNOWN 

THE  prints  of  feet  are  worn  away, 
No  more  the  mourners  come ; 

1  The  comma  has  been  inserted  by  the  editor. 


348  DR.  FRANCIS   ORRERY   TICK  NOR 

The  voice  of  wail  is  mute  to-day 
As  his  whose  life  is  dumb. 

The  world  is  bright  with  other  bloom ; 

Shall  the  sweet  summer  shed 
Its  living  radiance  o'er  the  tomb 

That  shrouds  the  doubly  dead  ? 

Unknown  !     Beneath  our  Father's  face 
The  star-lit  hillocks  lie  ; 

Another  rosebud  !  lest  His  grace 
Forget  us  when  we  die.1 


LOYAL2 

THE  Douglas  —  in  the  days  of  old  — 

The  gentle  minstrels  sing, 
Wore  at  his  heart,  encased  in  gold,3 

The  heart  of  Bruce,4  his  King. 

Through  Paynim  lands  to  Palestine, 
Befall  what  peril  might, 

1  This  poem  belongs  to  Ticknor's  group  of  "  Martial  and  Chivalrous  Lyrics," 
but  it  also  fits  well  with  his  "  Memorial  and  Religious  Poems,"  some  of  which  have 
the  merits  of  felicitous  expression  and  true  feeling.  "  Songs  of  Home  "  and  "  Poems 
of  Sentiment  and  Humor  "  contain  a  few  good  pieces  among  many  trifles.  They 
show  Ticknor's  kindly  sympathies  and  his  love  of  flowers  and  animals.  Special 
mention  may  be  made  of  "  Poeta  in  Rure  "  and  "  Gelert,"  an  elegy  on  a  pet  hound. 

2  This  poem  was  highly  praised  by  Hayne  and  it  has  been  reprinted  by  Professor 
Weber  in  his  "  Selections  from  the  Southern  Poets,"  and  by  Dr.  Link.  The  latter 
tells  us  how  it  came  to  be  written:  — 

"  It  has  reference  to  the  fall  of  General  Patrick  R.  Cleburne,  in  the  battle  fought 
near  the  close  of  the  war  in  the  vicinity  of  Franklin,  Tennessee.  Perhaps  no  battle 
of  the  war  cost  the  South  so  many  of  her  best  soldiers,  in  proportion  to  the  number 
engaged.  Cleburne  had  seen  a  better  way  than  to  fight  that  battle,  but  was  over 
ruled  by  his  commander.  Though  a  son  of  Erin,  he  had  command  of  Tennessee 
troops,  many  of  whom,  as  mere  lads,  had  left  their  mothers  and  sweethearts  nearly 
four  years  before.  These  boys  were  anxious  to  go  home, "  let  fall  what  peril  might." 
When  the  commander  sent  Cleburne  against  the  well-manned  works  at  Franklin, 
he  smiled  and  said :  '  General,  I  will  take  the  works  or  fall  in  the  effort.'  After 
having  two  horses  killed,  he  fell,  rushing  on  the  works." 

8  The  comma  has  been  added  by  the  editor. 

4  The  famous  Robert  Bruce  (1210-1295). 


LOYAL 


349 


To  lay  that  heart  on  Christ,  his  shrine,1 
His  Knightly  word  he  plight. 

A  weary  way,  by  night  and  day, 

Of  vigil  and  of  fight, 
Where  never  rescue  came  by  day 

Nor  ever  rest  by  night. 

And  one  by  one  the  valiant  spears, 

They  faltered  from  his  side ; 
And  one  by  one  his  heavy  tears 

Fell  for  the  Bruce  who  died. 

All  fierce  and  black,  around  his  track, 

He  saw  the  combat  close, 
And  counted  but  a  single  sword 

Against  uncounted  foes. 

He  drew  the  casket  from  his  breast,1 

He  bared  his  solemn  brow, 
Oh,  Kingliest  and  Knightliest, 

Go  first  in  battle,  now  ! 

Where  leads  my  Lord  of  Bruce,  the  sword 

Of  Douglas  shall  not  stay  ! 
Forward  —  and  to  the  feet  of  Christ2 

I  follow  thee,  to-day. 

The  casket  flashed  ! — The  Battle  clashed, 

Thundered  and  rolled  away. 
And  dead  above  the  heart  of  Bruce 

The  heart  of  Douglas,  lay. 

"  Loyal !  "  —  Methinks  the  antique  mould 

Is  lost !  —  or  Theirs  alone, 
Who  sheltered  Freedom's  heart  of  Gold, 

Like  Douglas  with  their  own. 

1  The  comma  has  been  added  by  the  editor. 

2  In  the  copy  furnished,  the  words  "  the  sword  "  and  "  Christ "  make  separate 
lines. 


350  DR.  FRANCIS   ORRERY  TICK  NOR 


PAGE   BROOK1 

THERE  is  dust  on  the  door-way  — 

There  is  mould  on  the  wall  — 
There's  a  chill  at  the  hearthstone  — 

A  hush  through  the  hall, 

And  the  stately  old  mansion 

Stands  darkened  and  cold 

By  the  leal  loving  hearts 

That  it  sheltered  of  old. 

No  light  at  the  lattice  — 
No  smile  at  the  door  — 
No  cheer  at  its  table, 
No  dance  on  its  floor ; 
But  "  Glory  departed,"  and  silence  alone  ; 2 
"  Dust  unto  dust " 
Upon  pillar  and  stone  ! 

No  laughter  of  childhood ; 

No  shout  on  the  lawn ; 

No  footstep  to  echo 

The  feet  that  are  gone  — 
Feet  of  the  Beautiful ! 
Forms  of  the  Brave  — 
Failing  in  other  lands, 
Gone  to  the  Grave. 

No  Anthem  of  Morning,8 
No  Hymn  rising  clear, 
Nor  Song  at  the  Bridal, 
Nor  Wail  at  the  Bier  ! 

1  This  poem,  which  is  furnished  by  Mrs.  Ticknor,  seems  to  have  previously 
appeared  in  "The  Land  We  Love,"  and  to  have  been  copied  from  that  into  Miss 
Mason's  "  Southern  Poems  of  the  War,"  with  a  text  differing  slightly  from  the 
present. 

2  The  semicolon  has  been  added  by  the  editor. 

3  The  comma  has  been  added  by  the  editor. 


JOHN  REUBEN  THOMPSON  351 

All  the  chords  of  its  symphonies 
Scattered  and  riven, 
Its  Altar  in  ashes ; 
Its  Incense  —  in  Heaven. 

Tis  an  ache  at  the  heart, 

Thus  lonely  to  stand 

By  the  wreck  of  a  Home 

Once  the  pride  of  the  land ; 
Its  chambers  unfilled  as  its  children  depart, 
The  melody  stilled  in  its  desolate  heart. 

Yet  softly  the  sunlight  still  rests  on  the  grass 

That  lightly  and  swiftly, 

The  cloud-shadows  pass, 
And  still  the  wide  meadow  exults  in  the  sheen 

With  its  foam  crest  of  snow, 

And  its  billows  of  green  ! 

And  the  verdure  shall  creep  to  the  mouldering  wall 

And  the  sunlight  shall  sleep 

On  the  desolate  hall  — 

And  the  foot  of  the  pilgrim 

Shall  find  till  the  last 

Some  fragrance  of  Home, 

At  this  Shrine  of  the  Past. 


JOHN   REUBEN  THOMPSON 

[  JOHN  REUBEN  THOMPSON  was  born  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  October  23, 
1823,  and  died  in  New  York,  April  30,  1873.  He  went  to  school  in  Con 
necticut,  graduated  in  law  at  the  University  of  Virginia  in  1844,  practised 
law  in  Richmond,  and  became  editor  of  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger 
in  1847.  In  this  position  he  repeated  to  some  extent  the  success  of  Poe, 
but  was  handicapped  by  weak  health.  In  1860  he  removed  to  Augusta, 
Georgia,  where  he  edited  The  Southern  Field  and  Fireside.  The  next  year 
he  returned  to  Richmond  and  was  made  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Common 
wealth.  He  had  previously  (1854)  sought  health  in  Europe;  in  1864  he  went 
abroad  again  for  that  purpose.  Slightly  restored,  he  spent  some  time  in 


352  JOHN  REUBEN  THOMPSON 

London,  occupied  in  literary  work  and  mingling  with  distinguished  people. 
Then  he  returned  dispirited  to  America  (1866),  and  soon  became  literary 
editor  of  the  New  York  Evening  Post.  A  visit  to  Colorado  did  him  no 
good,  and  he  came  back  to  die  in  the  East  —  not  in  the  South,  to  whose 
literary  interests  the  best  years  of  his  life  had  been  devoted.  His  poems, 
some  of  which  were  written  for  special  occasions,  such  as  the  unveiling  of  the 
statue  of  Washington  at  Richmond  in  1858,  have  never  been  collected,  but 
the  two  here  given  and  a  few  others  which  are  accessible  in  anthologies,  such 
as  Duyckinck's  "Cyclopaedia  of  American  Literature,"  revised  edition,  1875, 
Davidson's  "  Living  Writers  of  the  South,"  and  Miss  Mason's  "  Southern 
Poems  of  the  War,"  should  suffice,  with  his  friendship  for  Poe,  to  lend  interest 
to  his  career.1  See  a  good  article  by  Charles  Marshall  Graves  in  The  Lamp 
for  October,  1904,  and  Mrs.  Preston's  poem,  "A  Grave  in  Hollywood  Ceme 
tery,  Richmond."] 

ASHBY2 

To  the  brave  all  homage  render  ! 3 

Weep,  ye  skies  of  June  ! 
With  a  radiance  pure  and  tender, 

Shine,  O  saddened  moon ; 
"  Dead  upon  the  field  of  glory  /  "  — 
Hero  fit  for  song  and  story  — 

Lies  our  bold  dragoon  ! 

Well  they  learned,  whose  hands  have  slain  him, 

Braver,  knightlier  foe 
Never  fought  'gainst  Moor  nor  Paynim  — 

Rode  at  Templestowe  : 4 
With  a  mien  how  high  and  joyous, 
'Gainst  the  hordes  that  would  destroy  us, 

Went  he  forth,  we  know. 

1  Among  Thompson's  other  war  poems  the  student  will  find  "  The  Battle  Rain 
bow,"  "  The  Death  of  Stuart,"  and  "  The  Burial  of  Latan6  "  worthy  of  his  attention. 
It  may  be  remarked  that  Thompson  is  said  to  have  been  an  excellent  lecturer, 
especially  when  he  dealt  with  the  genius  of  Poe. 

2  Turner  Ashby  of  Virginia  (1824-1862),  a  dashing  brigadier-general  of  cavalry, 
was  killed  in  a  skirmish  near  Harrisonburg,  Virginia,  June  6,  1862.  He  was  also 
made  the  subject  of  a  good  lyric  by  Mrs.  Preston. 

8  From  "  The  Southern  Poems  of  the  War.  Collected  and  arranged  by  Miss 
Emily  V.  Mason,  of  Virginia."  Fifth  edition,  1889.  Copyright,  1867,  by  John 
Murphy.  By  kind  permission  of  John  Murphy  Company. 

*  See  "  Ivanhoe,"  Chap.  XLIII. 


MUSIC  IN  CAMP  353 

Nevermore,  alas  !  shall  sabre 

Gleam  around  his  crest  — 
Fought  his  fight,  fulfilled  his  labor, 

Stilled  his  manly  breast  — 
All  unheard  sweet  Nature's  cadence, 
Trump  of  fame  and  voice  of  maidens, 

Now  he  takes  his  rest. 

Earth,  that  all  too  soon  hath  bound  him, 

Gently  wrap  his  clay  ! 
Linger  lovingly  around  him, 

Light  of  dying  day  ! 
Softly  fall  the 1  summer  showers  — 
Birds  and  bees  among  the  flowers 

Make  the  gloom  seem  gay  ! 

There,  throughout  the  coming  ages, 

When  his  sword  is  rust, 
And  his  deeds  in  classic  pages  — 

Mindful  of  her  trust, 
Shall  Virginia,  bending  lowly, 
Still  a  ceaseless  vigil  holy 

Keep  above  his  dust ! 

MUSIC  IN  CAMP2 

Two  armies  covered  hill  and  plain, 

Where  Rappahannock's  waters 
Ran  deeply  crimsoned  with  the  stain 

Of  battle's  recent  slaughters. 

The  summer  clouds  lay  pitched  like  tents 

.  In  meads  of  heavenly  azure ; 
And  each  dread  gun  of  the  elements 
Slept  in  its  hid  embrasure. 

1  Sometimes  printed,  "  fall,  ye." 

"  The  text  follows  with  slight  changes  that  given  in  the  Stedman-Hutchinson 
'Library  of  American  Literature." 
2A 


354  JOHN  REUBEN  THOMPSON 

The  breeze  so  softly  blew,  it  made 

No  forest  leaf  to  quiver ; 
And  the  smoke  of  the  random  cannonade 

Rolled  slowly  from  the  river. 

And  now,  where  circling  hills  looked  down 
With  cannon  grimly  planted, 

O'er  listless  camp  and  silent  town 
The  golden  sunset  slanted. 

When  on  the  fervid  air  there  came 
A  strain  —  now  rich,  now  tender; 

The  music  seemed  itself  aflame 
With  day's  departing  splendor. 

A  Federal  band,  which,  eve  and  morn, 
Played  measures  brave  and  nimble, 

Had  just  struck  up,  with  flute  and  horn 
And  lively  clash  of  cymbal. 

Down  flocked  the  soldiers  to  the  banks, 
Till,  margined  by  its  pebbles, 

One  wooded  shore  was  blue  with  "  Yanks," 
And  one  was  gray  with  "  Rebels." 

Then  all  was  still,  and  then  the  band, 
With  movement  light  and  tricksy, 

Made  stream  and  forest,  hill  and  strand, 
Reverberate  with  "  Dixie." 

The  conscious  stream  with  burnished  glow 
Went  proudly  o'er  its  pebbles, 

But  thrilled  throughout  its  deepest  flow 
With  yelling  of  the  Rebels. 

Again  a  pause,  and  then  again 
The  trumpets  pealed  sonorous, 


MUSIC  IN  CAMP  355 

And  "  Yankee  Doodle  "  was  the  strain 
To  which  the  shore  gave  chorus. 

The  laughing  ripple  shoreward  flew, 

To  kiss  the  shining  pebbles ; 
Loud  shrieked  the  swarming  Boys  in  Blue 

Defiance  to  the  Rebels. 

And  yet  once  more  the  bugles  sang 

Above  the  stormy  riot ; 
No  shout  upon  the  evening  rang  — 

There  reigned  a  holy  quiet. 

The  sad,  slow  stream  its  noiseless  flood 

Poured  o'er  the  glistening  pebbles ; 
All  silent  now  the  Yankees  stood, 

And  silent  stood  the  Rebels. 

No  unresponsive  soul  had  heard 

That  plaintive  note's  appealing, 
So  deeply  "  Home,  Sweet  Home  "  had  stirred 

The  hidden  founts  of  feeling. 

Or  Blue  or  Gray,  the  soldier  sees, 

As  by  the  wand  of  fairy, 
The  cottage  'neath  the  live-oak  trees, 

The  cabin  by  the  prairie. 

Or  cold  or  warm,  his  native  skies 

Bend  in  their  beauty  o'er  him ; 
Seen  through  the  tear-mist  in  his  eyes, 

His  loved  ones  stand  before  him. 

As  fades  the  iris  after  rain, 

In  April's  tearful  weather, 
The  vision  vanished,  as  the  strain 

And  daylight  died  together. 


356  JAMES  RYDER  RANDALL 

But  memory,  waked  by  music's  art 
Expressed  in  simplest  numbers, 

Subdued  the  sternest  Yankee's  heart, 
Made  light  the  Rebel's  slumbers. 

And  fair  the  form  of  music  shines, 
That  bright,  celestial  creature, 

Who  still,  'mid  war's  embattled  lines, 
Gave  this  one  touch  of  Nature. 


JAMES    RYDER   RANDALL 

[JAMES  RYDER  RANDALL  was  born  in  Baltimore,  Maryland,  January  i, 
1839,  a  descendant  on  his  mother's  side  of  an  Acadian  family.  After  study 
ing  at  Georgetown  College,  entering  business  in  Baltimore,  and  teaching  in 
Florida,  he  became  professor  of  literature  at  Poydras  College  in  Louisiana. 
In  April,  1861,  he  read  in  the  New  Orleans  Sunday  Delta  an  account  of 
how  the  Massachusetts  troops  had  been  fired  on  in  their  passage  through 
Baltimore.  Rendered  sleepless  by  excitement,  he  rose  at  midnight  and  com 
posed  "  My  Maryland"  — or  rather,  dashed  it  off.  He  read  it  the  next  day 
to  his  students,  at  their  suggestion  sent  it  to  the  Delta,  and  soon  found  him 
self  famous.  He  wrote  other  excellent  war  poems,  such  as  "  John  Pelham," 
and  toward  the  close  of  the  war  gave  himself  up  to  journalism  at  Augusta, 
Georgia,  which  is  still  his  home.  He  is  connected  with  the  Augusta 
Chronicle,  and  for  many  years  was  its  Washington  correspondent.  His 
numerous  poems  have  not  been  collected,  but  a  volume  is  promised  shortly.] 


MY   MARYLAND1 

THE  despot's  heel  is  on  thy  shore, 

Maryland  ! 
His  torch  is  at  thy  temple  door, 

Maryland  ! 

Avenge  the  patriotic  gore 
That  flecked  the  streets  of  Baltimore, 

1  The  text  of  this  and  the  two  poems  that  follow  has  been  kindly  revised  by 
Mr.  Randall. 


MARYLAND  357 

And  be  the  battle-queen  of  yore, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

Hark  to  an  exiled  son's  appeal, 

Maryland  ! 
My  Mother  State,  to  thee  I  kneel, 

Maryland  ! 

For  life  and  death,  for  woe  and  weal, 
Thy  peerless  chivalry  reveal, 
And  gird  thy  beauteous  limbs  with  steel, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland  ! 

Thou  wilt  not  cower  in  the  dust, 

Maryland  ! 
Thy  beaming  sword  shall  never  rust, 

Maryland  ! 

Remember  Carroll's l  sacred  trust, 
Remember  Howard's 2  warlike  thrust, 
And  all  thy  slumberers  with  the  just, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland  ! 

Come  !  'tis  the  red  dawn  of  the  day, 

Maryland  ! 
Come  with  thy  panoplied  array, 

Maryland  ! 

With  Ringgold's 3  spirit  for  the  fray, 
With  Watson's 4  blood  at  Monterey, 
With  fearless  Lowe 4  and  dashing  May,5 

Maryland,  my  Maryland  ! 

1  Charles  Carroll  of  Carrollton  (1737-1832) ,  the  last  of  the  Signers  of  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence  to  pass  away. 

2  John  Eager  Howard  of  Baltimore  County  (1752-1827),  a  distinguished  Revo 
lutionary  soldier  and  United  States  Senator. 

3  Samuel  Ringgold  (1800-1846),  mortally  wounded  at  Palo  Alto. 

4  Watson  and  Lowe,  according  to  information  kindly  furnished  by  Mr.  Randall, 
were  Colonel  William  Henry  Watson  of  the  Baltimore  Battalion,  who  was  killed 
at  Monterey,  and  Enoch  Lewis  Lowe,  afterward  governor  of  Maryland. 

5  Charles  Augustus  May  (1817-1864),  distinguished  for  gallantry  in  the  Mexican 
War,  especially  at  the  battle  of  Monterey. 


358  JAMES  RYDER  RANDALL 

Dear  Mother,  burst  the  tyrant  chain, 

Maryland  ! 
Virginia  should  not  call  in  vain, 

Maryland  ! 

She  meets  her  sisters  on  the  plain,  — 
"Sic  semper  !  "  'tis  the  proud  refrain 
That  baffles  minions  back  amain, 

Maryland  ! 
Arise  in  majesty  again, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

Come  !  for  thy  shield  is  bright  and  strong, 

Maryland  ! 
Come  !  for  thy  dalliance  does  thee  wrong, 

Maryland  ! 

Come  to  thine  own  heroic  throng 
Stalking  with  Liberty  along, 
And  chant  thy  dauntless  slogan-song, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

I  see  the  blush  upon  thy  cheek, 

Maryland  ! 
For  thou  wast  ever  bravely  meek, 

Maryland  ! 

But  lo  !  there  surges  forth  a  shriek, 
From  hill  to  hill,  from  creek  to  creek, 
Potomac  calls  to  Chesapeake, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

Thou  wilt  not  yield  the  Vandal  toll, 

Maryland  ! 
Thou  wilt  not  crook  to  his  control, 

Maryland  ! 

Better  the  fire  upon  thee  roll, 
Better  the  shot,  the  blade,  the  bowl, 
Than  crucifixion  of  the  soul, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 


JOHN  PELHAM  359 

I  hear  the  distant  thunder  hum, 

Maryland  ! 
The  Old  Line  bugle,  fife,  and  drum, 

Maryland  ! 

She  is  not  dead,  nor  deaf,  nor  dumb ; 
Huzza  !  she  spurns  the  Northern  scum  ! 
She  breathes  !     She  burns  !    She'll  come  !    She'll  come  ! 

Maryland,  my  Maryland  ! 1 


JOHN   PELHAM2 

JUST  as  the  spring  came  laughing  through  the  strife, 
With  all  its  gorgeous  cheer, 

1  Mr.  Davidson,  in  "  Living  Writers  of  the  South  "  (p.  440),  seems  to  imply  that 
as  the  hopes  of  the  South  began  to  fail  "  My  Maryland  "  became  less  popular.    He 
states  categorically  that  it  was  parodied  and  burlesqued  by  the  troopers  in  camp  — 
a  fact  scarcely  so  creditable  to  them  as  the  fact,  also  vouched  for  by  Mr.  Davidson, 
that  the  soldiers,  amused  by  the  particularly  bloodthirsty  poems  written  by  non-com 
batants,  used  to  call  these  sanguinary  effusions  "  humorous  poetry."      Whatever 
decline  in  popularity  "  My  Maryland  "  may  once  have  had,  it  is  now  securely  fixed 
in  the  highest  rank  of  martial  lyrics,  although  some  persons  prefer  to  it  the  excellent 
but  very  different  poem  "  John  Pelham."    Among  Mr.  Randall's  other  war  poems 
were"  There's  Life  in  the  Old  Land  Yet  "  (not  to  be  confused  with  the  spirited  song 
of  the  same  name  by  F-  K.  Howard),  "  The  Battle-Cry  of  the  South,"  "At  Fort 
Pillow,"  and  "  The  Lone  Sentry."    Specimens  of  verse  of  quite  a  different  kind, 
such  as  "  Cobra  Capello  "  and  "  The  Cameo  Bracelet,"  are  given   by  Davidson. 
For  many  of  Randall's  war  lyrics,  see  Miss  Mason's  collection. 

2  The  editor  had  great  difficulty  in  securing  information  with  regard  to  Pelham, 
but  was  finally  much  helped  by  a  sketch  contributed  to  the  Richmond  Times-Dispatch, 
in  1903,  by  Captain  William  Gordon  McCabe,  a  reprint  of  which  was  kindly  fur 
nished  by  the  author.     Pelham  was  born  in  Calhoun   County,  Alabama,  about 
1841,  and  was  a  lad  at  West  Point  when  the  war  broke  out.     He  was  commissioned 
first  lieutenant  of  artillery,  and  did  so  well  that  General  "  Jeb"  Stuart  secured  per 
mission  for  him  "to  recruit  a  battery  of  horse  artillery  to  be    attached  to  the 
cavalry."     His  services  were  highly  commended  by  Jackson,  Longstreet,  and  Lee, 
and  he  was  specially  distinguished  by  his  skill  and  daring  at  the  battle  of  Fredericks- 
burg,  winning  from  Lee  the  sobriquet  of  "  the  gallant  Pelham."     He  was  killed  at 
the  cavalry  fight  at  Kelly's  Ford,  March  17,  1863,  and  his  death  caused  profound 
grief  throughout  the  army.     His  body  lay  in  state  for  two  days  in  the  capitol  at 
Richmond,  and  his  promotion  to  be  lieutenant-colonel  was  allowed  to  take  effect 
after  his  death  —  a  rare  honor.     He  was  only  twenty-two,  but  Lee  and  Stuart  praised 
him  as  though  he  were  a  scarred  veteran,  and  all  felt  that  the  praise  was  deserved. 


360  JAMES  RYDER  RANDALL 

In  the  bright  April  of  historic  life 
Fell  the  great  cannoneer. 

The  wondrous  lulling  of  a  hero's  breath 

His  bleeding  country  weeps  ; 
Hushed,  in  the  alabaster  arms  of  Death, 

Our  young  Marcellus l  sleeps. 

Nobler  and  grander  than  the  child  of  Rome, 

Curbing  his  chariot  steeds, 
The  knightly  scion  of  a-  Southern  home 

Dazzled  the  land  with  deeds. 

Gentlest  and  bravest  in  the  battle-brunt  — 

The  Champion  of  the  Truth  — 
He  bore  his  banner  to  the  very  front 

Of  our  immortal  youth. 

A  clang  of  sabres  mid  Virginian  snow, 

The  fiery  pang  of  shells,  — 
And  there's  a  wail  of  immemorial  woe 

In  Alabama  dells : 

The  pennon  droops,  that  led  the  sacred  band 

Along  the  crimson  field ; 
The  meteor  blade  sinks  from  the  nerveless  hand, 

Over  the  spotless  shield. 

We  gazed  and  gazed  upon  that  beauteous  face, 

While,  round  the  lips  and  eyes, 
Couched  in  their  marble  slumber,  flashed  the  grace 

Of  a  divine  surprise. 

O  mother  of  a  blessed  soul  on  high, 
Thy  tears  may  soon  be  shed  ! 

1  The  nephew  and  son-in-law  of  Augustus,  and  his  intended  successor,  whose 
early  death  caused  great  lamentation.  For  Virgil's  celebrated  tribute  to  him,  see 
^Eneid,  VI,  883. 


ABRAM  JOSEPH  RYAN  361 

Think  of  thy  boy,  with  princes  of  the  sky, 
Among  the  Southern  dead. 

How  must  he  smile  on  this  dull  world  beneath, 

Fevered  with  swift  renown,  — 
He,  with  the  martyr's  amaranthine  wreath, 

Twining  the  victor's  crown  ! 


WHY   THE   ROBIN'S   BREAST   IS   RED 

THE  Saviour,  bowed  beneath  his  cross,  clomb  up  the  dreary  hill, 
While  from  the  agonizing  wreath  ran  many  a  crimson  rill ; 
The  cruel  Roman  thrust  him  on  with  unrelenting  hand, 
Till,  staggering  slowly  mid  the  crowd,  He  fell  upon  the  sand. 

A  little  bird  that  warbled  near,  that  memorable  day, 
Flitted  around  and  strove  to  wrench  one  single  thorn  away ; 
The  cruel  spike  impaled  his  breast,  —  and  thus,  'tis  sweetly  said, 
The  Robin  has  his  silver  vest  incarnadined  with  red. 

Ah,  Jesu  !  Jesu  !     Son  of  man  !     My  dolor  and  my  sighs 
Reveal  the  lesson  taught  by  this  winged  Ishmael  of  the  skies. 
I,  in  the  palace  of  delight  or  cavern  of  despair, 
Have  plucked  no  thorns  from  thy  dear  brow,  but  planted  thousands 
there  ! 


ABRAM   JOSEPH    RYAN 

[ABRAM  JOSEPH  RYAN  was  born  in  Norfolk,  Virginia,  August  15,  1839,  and 
died  in  Louisville,  Kentucky,  April  22,  1886.  He  entered  the  Roman  Catholic 
priesthood  in  1861,  was  a  chaplain  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  wrote  patriotic 
lyrics  under  the  nom  de  plume  of  "  Moina."  After  the  war  he  served  his 
church  in  various  Southern  cities,  mainly  in  Mobile  (1868-1880),  wrote  much 
verse,  did  some  lecturing,  and  edited  religious  journals,  displaying  through 
out  his  career  a  restless  spirit.  During  the  last  five  years  of  his  life  he  was 
excused  from  his  clerical  work  on  account  of  his  ill-health,  and  he  devoted 
himself  mainly  to  literature.  He  was  widely  known  throughout  the  South  as 


362  ABRAM  JOSEPH  RYAN 

"  Father  "  Ryan,  and  his  patriotic  and  devotional  pieces  were  esteemed  by 
many  readers,  though  not  awarded  high  critical  praise.  He  left  an  unfinished 
"  Life  of  Christ "  and  published  three  volumes  of  verse.] 


THE  CONQUERED   BANNER1 

[FROM  " POEMS:  PATRIOTIC,  RELIGIOUS,  MISCELLANEOUS."    BY  ABRAM  J. 
RYAN.    1880.] 

FURL  that  Banner,  for  'tis  weary ; 
Round  its  staff  'tis  drooping  dreary ; 

Furl  it,  fold  it,  it  is  best ; 
For  there's  not  a  man  to  wave  it, 
And  there's  not  a  sword  to  save  it, 
And  there's  not  one  left  to  lave  it 
In  the  blood  which  heroes  gave  it ; 
And  its  foes  now  scorn  and  brave  it ; 

Furl  it,  hide  it  —  let  it  rest ! 

Take  that  Banner  down  !  'tis  tattered ; 
Broken  is  its  staff  and  shattered ; 
And  the  valiant  hosts  are  scattered 

Over  whom  it  floated  high. 
Oh  !  'tis  hard  for  us  to  fold  it ; 
Hard  to  think  there's  none  to  hold  it ; 
Hard  that  those  who  once  unrolled  it 

Now  must  furl  it  with  a  sigh. 

Furl  that  Banner  !  furl  it  sadly  ! 
Once  ten  thousands  hailed  it  gladly, 
And  ten  thousands  wildly,  madly, 

Swore  it  should  forever  wave  ; 
Swore  that  foeman's  sword  should  never 
Hearts  like  theirs  entwined  dissever, 
Till  that  flag  should  float  forever 

O'er  their  freedom  or  their  grave  ! 

1  This  and  the  following  poem  are  copyrighted,  and  are  here  reprinted  through 
the  courtesy  of  Mr.  P.  J.  Kenedy,  owner  of  the  copyright. 


THE  SWORD    OF  ROBERT  LEE  363 

Furl  it !  for  the  hands  that  grasped  it, 
And  the  hearts  that  fondly  clasped  it, 

Cold  and  dead  are  lying  low ; 
And  that  Banner  —  it  is  trailing  ! 
While  around  it  sounds  the  wailing 

Of  its  people  in  their  woe. 

For,  though  conquered,  they  adore  it ! 
Love  the  cold,  dead  hands  that  bore  it ! 
Weep  for  those  who  fell  before  it ! 
Pardon  those  who  trailed  and  tore  it ! 
But,  oh  !  wildly  they  deplore  it, 
Now  who  furl  and  fold  it  so. 

Furl  that  Banner  !  True,  'tis  gory, 
Yet  'tis  wreathed  around  with  glory, 
And  'twill  live  in  song,  and  story, 

Though  its  folds  are  in  the  dust : 
For  its  fame  on  brightest  pages, 
Penned  by  poets  and  by  sages, 
Shall  go  sounding  down  the  ages  — 

Furl  its  folds  though  now  we  must. 

Furl  that  Banner,  softly,  slowly  ! 
Treat  it  gently  —  it  is  holy  — 

For  it  droops  above  the  dead. 
Touch  it  not  —  unfold  it  never, 
Let  it  droop  there,  furled  forever, 

For  its  people's  hopes  are  dead  ! 


THE   SWORD   OF  ROBERT   LEE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

FORTH  from  its  scabbard,  pure  and  bright, 

Flashed  the  sword  of  Lee  ! 
Far  in  the  front  of  the  deadly  fight, 
High  o'er  the  brave  in  the  cause  of  Right, 


364  ABRAM  JOSEPH  RYAN 

Its  stainless  sheen,  like  a  beacon  light, 
Led  us  to  Victory. 

Out  of  its  scabbard,  where,  full  long, 

It  slumbered  peacefully, 
Roused  from  its  rest  by  the  battle's  song, 
Shielding  the  feeble,  smiting  the  strong, 
Guarding  the  right,  avenging  the  wrong, 
Gleamed  the  sword  of  Lee. 

Forth  from  its  scabbard,  high  in  air 

Beneath  Virginia's  sky  — 
And  they  who  saw  it  gleaming  there, 
And  knew  who  bore  it,  knelt  to  swear 
That  where  that  sword  led  they  would  dare 
To  follow  —  and  to  die. 

Out  of  its  scabbard  !  Never  hand 

Waved  sword  from  stain  as  free, 
Nor  purer  sword  led  braver  band, 
Nor  braver  bled  for  a  brighter  land, 
Nor  brighter  land  had  a  cause  so  grand, 
Nor  cause  a  chief  like  Lee  ! 

Forth  from  its  scabbard  !  how  we  prayed 

That  sword  might  victor  be  ; 
And  when  our  triumph  was  delayed, 
And  many  a  heart  grew  sore  afraid, 
We  still  hoped  on  while  gleamed  the  blade 
Of  noble  Robert  Lee. 

Forth  from  its  scabbard  all  in  vain 

Forth  flashed  the  sword  of  Lee  ; 
Tis  shrouded  now  in  its  sheath  again, 
It  sleeps  the  sleep  of  our  noble  slain, 
Defeated,  yet  without  a  stain, 
Proudly  and  peacefully. 


DREAMING  IN  THE   TRENCHES  365 


WILLIAM    GORDON    McCA-BE 

[WILLIAM  GORDON  McCABE,  a  son  of  the  poet,  the  Rev.  John  Collins 
McCabe,  was  born  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  August  4,  1841.  He  studied  at  the 
University  of  Virginia,  entered  the  artillery  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
in  1 86 1,  and  rose  from  private  to  captain.  After  the  war  he  established,  in 
Petersburg,  a  classical  school  which  became  widely  known  and,  after  some 
years,  was  removed  to  Richmond.  He  has  published  Latin  text-books  and 
numerous  literary  and  historical  articles,  and  is  noted  as  a  speaker  and 
raconteur.] 

DREAMING  IN   THE   TRENCHES1 

I  PICTURE  her  there  in  the  quaint  old  room, 
Where  the  fading  fire-light  starts  and  falls, 

Alone  in  the  twilight's  tender  gloom 

With  the  shadows  that  dance  on  the  dim-lit  walls. 

Alone,  while  those  faces  look  silently  down 
From  their  antique  frames  in  a  grim  repose  — 

Slight  scholarly  Ralph  in  his  Oxford  gown, 
And  stanch  Sir  Alan,  who  died  for  Montrose.2 

There  are  gallants  gay  in  crimson  and  gold, 
There  are  smiling  beauties  with  powdered  hair, 

But  she  sits  there,  fairer  a  thousand-fold, 
Leaning  dreamily  back  in  her  low  arm-chair. 

And  the  roseate  shadows  of  fading  light 
Softly  clear  steal  over  the  sweet  young  face, 

Where  a  woman's  tenderness  blends  to-night 
With  the  guileless  pride  of  a  knightly  race. 

1  The  text  of  these  selections  has  been  kindly  furnished  by  Captain  McCabe. 

2  James  Graham,  Marquis  of  Montrose  (1612-1650),  the  poet,  and  great  soldier 
and  supporter  of  Charles  I. 


366  WILLIAM  GORDON  McCABE 

Her  small  hands  lie  clasped  in  a  listless  way 

On  the  old  Romance  —  which  she  holds  on  her  knee- 

Of  Tristram,  the  bravest  of  knights  in  the  fray, 
And  Iseult,  who  waits  by  the  sounding  sea. 

And  her  proud,  dark  eyes  wear  a  softened  look 
As  she  watches  the  dying  embers  fall : 

Perhaps  she  dreams  of  the  knight  in  the  book, 
Perhaps  of  the  pictures  that  smile  on  the  wall. 

What  fancies  I  wonder  are  thronging  her  brain, 
For  her  cheeks  flush  warm  with  a  crimson  glow  ! 

Perhaps  —  ah  !  me,  how  foolish  and  vain  ! 
But  I'd  give  my  life  to  believe  it  so  ! 

Well,  whether  I  ever  march  home  agen 
To  offer  my  love  and  a  stainless  name, 

Or  whether  I  die  at  the  head  of  my  men,  — 
I'll  be  true  to  the  end  all  the  same. 

PETERSBURG  TRENCHES,  1864. 


CHRISTMAS   NIGHT   OF  '62 

THE  wintry  blast  goes  wailing  by, 
The  snow  is  falling  overhead  ; 
I  hear  the  lonely  sentry's  tread, 

And  distant  watch-fires  light  the  sky. 

Dim  forms  go  flitting  through  the  gloom ; 
The  soldiers  cluster  round  the  blaze 
To  talk  of  other  Christmas  days, 

And  softly  speak  of  home  and  home. 

My  sabre  swinging  overhead 

Gleams  in  the  watch-fire's  fitful  glow, 
While  fiercely  drives  the  blinding  snow, 

And  memory  leads  me  to  the  dead. 


CHRISTMAS  NIGHT   OF  '62 

My  thoughts  go  wandering  to  and  fro, 
Vibrating  'twixt  the  Now  and  Then ; 
I  see  the  low-browed  home  agen, 

The  old  hall  wreathed  with  mistletoe. 

And  sweetly  from  the  far  off  years 

Comes  borne  the  laughter  faint  and  low, 
The  voices  of  the  Long  Ago  ! 

My  eyes  are  wet  with  tender  tears. 

I  feel  agen  the  mother-kiss, 

I  see  agen  the  glad  surprise 
That  lighted  up  the  tranquil  eyes 

And  brimmed  them  o'er  with  tears  of  bliss, 

As,  rushing  from  the  old  hall-door, 

She  fondly  clasped  her  wayward  boy — 
Her  face  all  radiant  with  the  joy 

She  felt  to  see  him  home  once  more. 

My  sabre  swinging  on  the  bough 

Gleams  in  the  watch-fire's  fitful  glow, 
While  fiercely  drives  the  blinding  snow 

Aslant  upon  my  saddened  brow. 

Those  cherished  faces  all  are  gone  ! 
Asleep  within  the  quiet  graves 
Where  lies  the  snow  in  drifting  waves,  — 

And  I  am  sitting  here  alone. 

There's  not  a  comrade  here  to-night 
But  knows  that  loved  ones  far  away 
On  bended  knees  this  night  will  pray : 

"  God  bring  our  darling  from  the  fight." 

But  there  are  none  to  wish  me  back, 
For  me  no  yearning  prayers  arise. 
The  lips  are  mute  and  closed  the  eyes  — 

My  home  is  in  the  bivouac. 
IN  THE  ARMY  OF  NORTHERN  VIRGINIA. 


367 


368  WILLIAM   GORDON  McCABE 

JOHN   PEGRAM1 

FELL  AT  THE  HEAD  OF  HIS  DIVISION,  FEBRUARY  6,  1865 
xxxm 


WHAT  shall  we  say  now  of  our  gentle  knight  ? 

Or  how  express  the  measure  of  our  woe 
For  him  who  rode  the  foremost  in  the  fight, 

Whose  good  blade  flashed  so  far  amid  the  foe  ? 

Of  all  his  knightly  deeds  what  need  to  tell  — 

That  good  blade  now  lies  fast  within  its  sheath  — 

What  can  we  do  but  point  to  where  he  fell, 
And,  like  a  soldier,  met  a  soldier's  death. 

We  sorrow  not  as  those  who  have  no  hope, 
For  he  was  pure  in  heart  as  brave  in  deed  — 

God  pardon  us,  if  blind  with  tears  we  grope, 

And  love  be  questioned  by  the  hearts  that  bleed. 

And  yet  —  O  foolish  and  of  little  faith  !  — 

We  cannot  choose  but  weep  our  useless  tears  — 

We  loved  him  so  !  we  never  dreamed  that  Death 
Would  dare  to  touch  him  in  his  brave  young  years. 

Ah  !  dear  bronzed  face,  so  fearless  and  so  bright  ! 

As  kind  to  friend  as  thou  wast  stern  to  foe  — 
No  more  we'll  see  thee  radiant  in  the  fight, 

The  eager  eyes  —  the  flush  on  cheek  and  brow. 

No  more  we'll  greet  the  lithe,  familiar  form 

Amid  the  surging  smoke  with  deaf'ning  cheer  — 

No  more  shall  soar  above  the  iron  storm 

Thy  ringing  voice  in  accents  sweet  and  clear. 

1  Born  in  Petersburg,  Virginia,  January  24,  1832;  killed  near  Hatcher's  Run. 
He  was  a  graduate  of  West  Point,  served  on  the  frontier,  and  gained  distinction  in 
the  Civil  War  as  a  cavalry  leader.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  had  risen  to  the 
grade  of  major-general. 


ONLY  A  MEMORY  369 

Aye  !  he  has  fought  the  fight  and  passed  away  — 
Our  grand  young  leader  smitten  in  the  strife, 

So  swift  to  seize  the  chances  of  the  fray, 
'And  careless  only  of  his  noble  life. 

He  is  not  dead  but  sleepeth  !     Well  we  know 
The  form  that  lies  to-day  beneath  the  sod 

Shall  rise  what  time  the  golden  bugles  blow 

And  pour  their  music  through  the  courts  of  God. 

And  there  amid  our  great  heroic  dead, 

The  war-worn  sons  of  God  whose  work  is  done !  — 

His  face  shall  shine,  as  they  with  stately  tread 
In  grand  review  sweep  past  the  jasper  throne. 

Let  not  our  hearts  be  troubled  !     Few  and  brief 

His  days  were  here,  yet  rich  in  love  and  faith ; 
Lord,  we  believe,  help  Thou  our  unbelief, 

And  grant  Thy  servants  such  a  life  and  death ! 
BIVOUAC  ON  THE  RIGHT  OF  PETERSBURG,  February  8, 1865. 

ONLY  A   MEMORY1 

—  old  times,  they  cling,  they  cling.  —  OWEN  MEREDITH. 
I 

STILL  I  can  see  her  before  me, 

As  in  the  days  of  old, 
Her  lips  of  serious  sweetness, 

Hair  of  the  richest  gold. 

ii 

The  rings  on  her  dainty  fingers, 

Love  in  her  tender  eyes, 
And  the  sweet  young  bosom  heaving 

With  low  delicious  sighs. 

1  Published  in  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  November,  1861  —  the  editor 
prefacing  it  with :  "  Isn't  this  a  little  gem  ?  Pity  the  soldier-poet  should  have  cause 
to  write  it." 

2B 


ANONYMOUS 


III 

Is  it  a  wonder  I  love  her? 

That  through  long  years  of  pain, 
I  still  am  true  to  the  old  love  — 

The  love  alas  !  in  vain. 
HOWITZER  CAMP,  YORKTOWN,  September,  1861. 


ANONYMOUS 

THE   SOLDIER   BOY1 
[Bv  H.  M.  L.] 

I  GIVE  my  soldier  boy  a  blade, 

In  fair  Damascus  fashioned  well ; 
Who  first  the  glittering  falchion  swayed, 

Who  first  beneath  its  fury  fell, 
I  know  not :  but  I  hope  to  know 

That  for  no  mean  or  hireling  trade, 
To  guard  no  feeling,  base  or  low, 

I  give  my  soldier  boy  a  blade. 

Cool,  calm,  and  clear  the  lucid  flood 

In  which  its  tempering  work  was  done ; 
As  calm,  as  cool,  as  clear  of  mood 

Be  thou  whene'er  it  sees  the  sun ; 
For  country's  claim,  at  honor's  call, 

For  outraged  friend,  insulted  maid, 
At  mercy's  voice  to  bid  it  fall, 

I  give  my  soldier  boy  a  blade. 

The  eye  which  marked  its  peerless  edge, 
The  hand  that  weighed  its  balanced  poise, 

1  From  "  The  Southern  Poems  of  the  War.  Collected  and  arranged  by  Miss 
Emily  V.  Mason,  of  Virginia."  Fifth  edition,  1889.  Copyright,  1867,  by  John 
Murphy.  By  kind  permission  of  John  Murphy  Company. 


"THE  BRIGADE  MUST  NOT  KNOW,  SIR!"          3/1 

Anvil  and  pincers,  forge  and  wedge, 
Are  gone  with  all  their  flame  and  noise ; 

And  still  the  gleaming  sword  remains. 
So  when  in  dust  I  low  am  laid, 

Remember  by  these  heartfelt  strains 
I  give  my  soldier  boy  a  blade. 

LYNCHBURG,  May  18,  1861. 


"THE   BRIGADE   MUST   NOT   KNOW,   SIR!"1 

"  WHO'VE  ye  got  there  ?  "     "  Only  a  dying  brother, 

Hurt  in  the  front  just  now." 
"  Good  boy  !  he'll  do.     Somebody  tell  his  mother 

Where  he  was  killed,  and  how." 

"Whom  have  you  there? "     "A  crippled  courier,  Major, 

Shot  by  mistake,  we  hear. 
He  was  with  Stonewall."     "  Cruel  work  they've  made  here ; 

Quick  with  him  to  the  rear  ! " 

"  Well,  who  comes  next?  "     "  Doctor,  speak  low,  speak  low,  sir ; 

Don't  let  the  men  find  out ! 
It's  STONEWALL  !  "     "  God  ! "     "  The  brigade  must  not  know,  sir, 

While  there's  a  foe  about ! " 

Whom  have  we  here  —  shrouded  in  martial  manner, 

Crowned  with  a  martyr's  charm  ? 
A  grand  dead  hero,  in  a  living  banner, 

Born  of  his  heart  and  arm  : 


The  heart  whereon  his  cause  hung  —  see  how  clingeth 
That  banner  to  his  bier  ! 

1  The  text  is  in  the  main  that  of  the  Stedman-Hutchinson  "  Library  of  American 
Literature." 


3/2  ANONYMOUS 

The  arm  wherewith  his  cause  struck  —  hark  !  how  ringeth 
His  trumpet  in  their  rear  ! 

What  have  we  left?     His  glorious  inspiration, 

His  prayers  in  council  met ; 
Living,  he  laid  the  first  stones  of  a  nation  j 

And  dead,  he  builds  it  yet. 

1863. 


THIRD   PERIOD 

THE  LITERATURE   OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 
1866-1904 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  energy  which  has  marked  what  is  called  the  New  South 
has  shown  itself  in  no  more  pronounced  form  than  in  the  interest 
the  Southern  people  have  manifested  in  education  and  in  the 
success  with  which  they  have  described  their  life  and  expressed 
their  aspirations  in  literature.  The  war  was  scarcely  over  before 
the  surviving  writers,  Simms,  Hayne,  Esten  Cooke,  Mrs.  Preston, 
and  their  companions,  were  endeavoring  to  reach  the  public  of  the 
changed  country.  In  some  respects  they  were  unsuccessful,  for 
the  tastes  of  readers  had  essentially  changed.  Prose  increased 
the  lead  it  had  gained  on  poetry.  Romance  of  the  type  supplied 
by  Cooper,  Bird,  Simms,  and  Kennedy  gave  place  to  realistic 
stories,  descriptive  of  life  in  a  country  that  had  just  fought  a  great 
war,  and  had  come  to  take  an  intelligent,  not  a  merely  boastful, 
pride  in  itself.  Leisurely  essays  and  history  of  the  type  furnished 
by  Irving ;  old-fashioned,  elegant  scholarship ;  dignified,  eulogistic 
biography,  also  gave  way  slowly  in  face  of  the  growing  interest  in 
science,  in  economics,  in  language  study,  —  especially  in  English,  in 
which  Southern  scholars  were  pioneers,1  —  and  in  history  and 
biography  based  on  a  minute  study  of  documentary  sources.  At 
first  the  South  was  not  well  prepared  to  meet  the  new  demands ; 
not  for  lack  of  energy,  since  literary  and  scholarly  enterprise  was 
manifested  in  many  ways,  notably  in  the  establishment  of  short 
lived  journals  and  reviews,2  but  for  lack  of  properly  trained  and 

1  See  an  article  by  Professor  J.  B.  Henneman,  entitled  "  The  Study  of  English 
in  the  South,"  in  The  Sewanee  Review  for  February,  1894.     In  this  article  the  work 
of  that  erudite  scholar  and  noble  man,  the  late  Professor  Thomas  R.  Price,  is 
adequately  commemorated. 

2  Very  few  persons  realize  how  great  was  the  literary  activity  of  the  South  im 
mediately  after  the  war.     Most  of  the  work  produced  was  of  merely  temporary 
value  or  else  of  no  value  whatsoever ;  but  the  phenomenon  of  an  avalanche  of  litera- 

375 


376  INTRODUCTION 

equipped  writers  and  scholarly  investigators.  Soon,  however,  this 
deficiency  was  in  considerable  measure  overcome.  New  writers 
appeared  who  described  the  life  of  the  South  with  a  success  that 
placed  them  on  a  level  with  the  writers,  particularly  of  fiction, 
who  were  describing  the  life  of  the  East  and  the  West.  Many 
young  Southerners  went  to  German  universities  and  came  back 
prepared  to  do  specialistic  work  in  various  lines  of  study,  and 
after  the  Johns  Hopkins  University  was  opened  at  Baltimore,  in 
1876,  such  a  training  was  obtainable  at  their  own  doors. 

It  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  disastrous  period  of  Recon 
struction  that  the  literary  renaissance  of  the  South  began  in 
earnest.  Then  Sidney  Lanier,  who  had  labored  heroically  since 
the  war  on  his  favorite  arts  of  music  and  poetry,  was  spared  for  a 
few  years  of  fine  achievement,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  many  per 
sons,  have  sufficed  to  place  him  at  the  head  of  the  American 
poets  of  the  last  half-century.  Then  Mr.  Cable  began  to  write  his 


ture  in  a  devastated  region  that  had  never  been  notably  given  over  to  literary  pur 
suits  is  worthy  of  study.  Probably  the  main  cause  of  the  phenomenon  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  every  one  needed  money  and  turned  to  the  employment  that 
requires  the  least  outlay  of  capital.  This  does  not,  however,  account  entirely  for 
the  foundation  of  numerous  periodicals,  such  as  General  D.  H.  Hill's  The  Land  We 
Love,  published  at  Charlotte,  N.C.,  Dr.  Bledsoe's  Southern  Review,  published  at 
Baltimore  and  St.  Louis,  The  New  Eclectic  with  its  sequel  The  Southern  Magazine, 
edited  by  Dr.  William  Hand  Browne  at  Baltimore,  with  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston 
and  Lanier  as  contributors,  and  The  Nineteenth  Century  of  Charleston.  There  was 
also  a  most  stimulating  effect  produced  on  the  Southern  mind  by  the  events 
of  the  war,  to  say  nothing  of  the  effect  upon  the  emotions,  and  poetry,  fiction, 
and  history,  and  periodicals  in  which  these  could  appear,  were  the  natural 
forms  in  which  the  stimulated  minds  and  hearts  expressed  themselves.  The 
chief  monument  of  this  literary  renaissance,  if  the  stilted  phraseology  may 
be  pardoned,  is  the  curious  volume,  published  in  1869,  by  James  Wood  Davidson 
of  South  Carolina,  entitled  "  The  Living  Writers  of  the  South."  Professor 
Davidson  included  two  hundred  and  forty-one  writers,  at  a  little  more  than 
the  proportion  of  two  men  to  one  woman.  He  chose  authors  of  one  or  many 
books  in  any  field  of  thought,  and  was  hospitable  to  journalists  and  writers  of 
fugitive  verse.  As  was  to  be  expected,  scarcely  one  in  ten  of  his  writers  is  so  much 
as  a  name  to-day.  Yet  his  book  furnishes  abundant  proof  of  the  post-bellum 
literary  activity  of  the  South,  and  the  student  may  find  in  it  many  useful  facts  and 
a  greater  number  of  the  "  curiosities  of  literature."  It  also  contains  poems  by 
interesting  writers  which  have  either  never  been  collected  or  are  rather  inacces 
sible  —  such  writers  as  Dr.  Bruns,  Mr.  Randall,  Judge  Requier,  Mrs.  Von  Weiss 
(Miss  Susan  Archer  Talley,  the  friend  of  Poe),  John  R.  Thompson,  and  others. 


INTRODUCTION  377 

unique  stories  of  Creole  life  in  Louisiana;1  Mr.  Harris  discovered 
Uncle  Remus  and  Brer  Rabbit,  and  continued  the  tradition  of 
Longstreet  as  a  depicter  of  the  humors  of  Georgia  life ;  Colonel 
Richard  Malcolm  Johnston  also  described  Georgia  life,  and  carried 
over  to  the  new  period  much  of  the  genial  culture  of  the  old ; 
Irwin  Russell  brought  out  the  picturesqueness  of  the  negro  and 
the  fitness,  of  his  dialect  for  use  in  humorous  verse ;  Mr.  Thomas 
Nelson  Page  began  those  stories  of  Old  Virginia  before  and 
during  the  war  which  he  has  developed  into  elaborate  novels 
dealing  with  Reconstruction  and  its  problems  \  and  in  the  wake 
of  these  now  distinguished  pioneers  followed  a  large  number  of 
worthy  emulators.  The  North  and  West  read  the  new  stories 
with  delight,  and  the  South  was  charmed  and  encouraged  to  find 
its  writers  famous  throughout  the  nation. 


1  It  should  not  be  forgotten  in  this  connection  that  the  Creoles  of  Louisiana,  many 
of  whom  have  objected  to  Mr.  Cable's  descriptions  of  their  life,  have  for  over  a  cen 
tury  been  expressing  their  ideals  in  a  literature  of  prose  and  verse  which  occupies 
an  isolated  position.  It  belongs  to  the  colonial  literature  of  France,  which  counts 
some  very  distinguished  names ;  yet  it  also  belongs  in  many  respects,  especially  as 
regards  its  spirit  of  loyalty,  to  Louisiana  and  the  South  and  the  United  States, 
to  Southern  —  nay  more,  to  American  literature.  One  distinguished  Creole 
writer,  who  wrote  fluently  in  both  French  and  English,  has  already  been  in 
cluded  in  this  volume,  —  M.  Charles  Gayarre.  Other  devoted  citizens  of  New 
Orleans  will  be  represented  or  else  mentioned  later.  But  many  really  worthy  and 
interesting  writers  must  remain  unnamed  here,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  they  will 
continue  to  remain  unknown  to  their  fellow  Southerners  and  Americans.  The 
student  who  does  not  wish  to  be  entirely  ignorant  of  this  Louisiana  literature 
should  by  #11  means  consult  the  first  part  of  Professor  Alcee  Fortier's  "  Louisiana 
Studies."  Professor  Fortier,  who  holds  the  chair  of  the  French  language  and  litera 
ture  in  Tulane  University,  is  not  only  the  author  of  a  recent  elaborate  history  of 
his  native  state  and  of  studies  in  its  folk-lore,  but  is  the  chief  authority  upon  its 
literature.  He  gives  the  names  of  many  Creole  authors  and  fairly  copious  selec 
tions  from  their  very  inaccessible  works.  Professor  Davidson's  recently  mentioned 
"  Living  Writers  of  the  South  "  also  mentions  and  quotes  from  a  number  of  them. 
It  must  be  sufficient  here  to  say  that  poetry,  fiction,  history,  have  been  extensively 
cultivated  by  the  Creoles,  and  especially  the  drama,  —  the  genius  of  their  parent 
country  remaining  strong  in  this  respect,  • —  and  to  name  as  probably  worthy  of  at 
tention  the  poet  and  dramatist  Placide  Canonge  (two  of  whose  songs  written  in 
exile  during  the  Civil  War  seem  to  the  present  editor  excellent) ,  the  better-known 
poets  Adrian  and  Frangois  Rouquette,  the  dramatist  Victor  Sejour,  and  the  poets 
Dr.  Alfred  Mercier,  Dr.  Charles  Testut,  Charles  Oscar  Dugue,  Camille  Thierry, 
and  Alexandre  Latil.  The  elegies  of  the  last-named  poet  are  certainly  suggestive 
of  those  of  Millevoye,  as  Professor  Fortier  declares. 


378  INTR  OD  UC  TION 

Meanwhile  Katharine  Sherwood  Bonner  of  Mississippi  (1849- 
1883),  later  Mrs.  Edward  McDowell,  had  shown  in  her  short 
stories,  and  her  novelette  of  Reconstruction  days  "  Like  unto 
Like,"  as  well  as  in  her  attractive  personality,  powers  of  humorous 
and  realistic  description,  which  made  her  early  death  a  matter 
of  great  regret  not  only  to  the  South,  but  to  her  many  Northern 
friends.1  Miss  Murfree  also  had  introduced  the  Tennessee 
mountaineer  to  literature,  and  added  herself  to  the  group  of  well- 
known  Southern  women  who  had  succeeded  in  attracting  attention 
to  their  books,  —  Mrs.  Preston,  Mrs.  Terhune  ("Marion  Harland"), 
and  the  popular  novelists  Mrs.  Tiernan  ("  Christian  Reid  ")  and 
Mrs.  Augusta  Evans  Wilson.  Before  Miss  Murfree,  Miss  Sarah 
Barnwell  Elliott  had  published  her  strong  story  "The  Felmeres," 
and  both  Miss  Elliott,  in  subsequent  books  such  as  "  Jerry  "  and 
"John  Paget,"  and  Miss  Grace  King,  Miss  Glasgow,  Mrs.  Burton 
Harrison,  the  Princess  Troubetskoy  (formerly  Miss  Ame"lie  Rives), 
Mrs.  Virginia  Frazer  Boyle,  Mrs.  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart,  and  Miss 
Mary  Johnston,  to  name  no  others,  have  made  important  con 
tributions  to  the  fiction  of  the  South  and  of  the  country.  It  is 
almost  needless  to  add  that  in  that  careful  artist,  Mr.  James  Lane 
Allen,  and  in  Mr.  John  Fox,  Kentucky  has  produced  two  writers 
of  fiction  who  have  added  much  to  Southern,  or  perhaps  we  should 
say  Southwestern,  literary  prestige.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  denied 
that  the  last  ten  years,  in  the  number  of  new  novelists  and  of  not 
able  novels  produced,  have  not  continued  the  high  level  of  promise 
and  achievement  attained  between  1880  and  1895  ;  but  in  some 
cases  the  older  writers  have  added  to  their  laurels  and  new 
novelists  of  merit,  like  Mr.  W.  N.  Harben  of  Georgia,  have  come 
forward.  It  is  equally  undeniable  that  no  Southern  poet  of  the 
rank  of  Lanier  has  made  his  appearance,  but  the  work  of  "  Father  " 
Tabb,  Mr.  Peck,  Mr.  Cawein,  and  others  has  been  widely  admired  ; 
and  the  selections,  given  at  the  end  of  this  volume  will  suffice  to 
show  that  the  living  poets  of  the  South  hold  their  own  with  those 
of  the  other  sections  in  that  careful  technique  which  is  the  chief 
merit  of  latter-day  verse  throughout  the  English-speaking  world. 

1  See  the  good  sketch  of  her  career  by  B.  M.  Drake  in  "  Southern  Writers," 
Second  Series  (1903). 


INTR  OD  UCTION  3  79 

In  history  and  scholarship  the  New  South  has  probably  not 
made  so  impressive  a  showing  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  as  in 
fiction  \  but  its  work  in  these  fields  as  well  as  in  that  field  of 
oratory  in  which  the  Old  South  excelled,  has  been,  all  things 
considered,  very  creditable.  Classical  scholarship  has  its  notable 
exemplar  in  Professor  Basil  L.  Gildersleeve  of  Johns  Hopkins,  who 
is  also  an  essayist  worthy  of  being  much  better  known.  Among 
public  men  who  have  continued  the  tradition  of  the  past,  two 
stand  out  conspicuously,  the  late  Senator  L.  Q.  C.  Lamar  and  the 
early  lost  reconciler  of  the  sections,  the  eloquent  Henry  Grady. 
In  history,  biography,  and  kindred  subjects  the  work  of  the  late 
William  Wirt  Henry,  the  late  Edward  McCrady,  and  the  late 
Charles  C.  Jones,  as  well  as  that  of  Woodrow  Wilson,  Hannis 
Taylor,  Philip  A.  Bruce,  and  others,  has  been  cordially  received 
by  scholars  and  by  the  public ;  and  a  school  of  careful  historical 
investigators  is  at  work  throughout  the  South.1  In  literary  criti 
cism  the  showing  is  not  so  good,  but  the  work  of  the  late  Professor 
William  M.  Baskervill,  of  Vanderbilt  University,  should  be  men 
tioned  as  pointing  the  way  to  a  careful  study  of  latter-day  native 
writers ;  and  it  should  be  remembered  that  for  some  years  the  South 
has  shown  itself  able  to  maintain  two  quarterly  reviews  of  a  scholarly 
type.2  Perhaps  in  no  clearer  way  has  the  true  intellectual  advance  of 
the  South  been  illustrated  than  by  the  growth  of  the  critical  spirit, 
especially  in  matters  relating  to  past  and  present  politics.  For 
obvious  reasons  the  South  has  long  been  solidified  in  political 
thought  and  feeling,  and  it  must  for  long  continue  so.  Such 
solidarity,  however,  always  represses  the  critical  spirit  and  the 
free  play  of  mind.  That  it  is  possible  in  spite  of  this  condition  of 
affairs  for  Southern  men  to  speak  and  write  freely  on  every  issue 
of  importance  —  and  that  this  is  possible  has  been  frequently 
shown  —  is  the  best  of  proofs  that  the  New  South  has  made 

1  Much  attention  has  been  paid,  of  course,  to  the  military  history  of  the  Civil 
War.     Distinguished  soldiers  have  written  accounts  of  their  campaigns,  e.g.  Gen 
erals  J.  E.  Johnston  and  Longstreet ;  studies  of  the  careers  of   leaders  like  Lee 
and  Forrest  have  been  made ;  volumes  have  been  devoted  to  special  campaigns, 
the  siege  of  Charleston,  and  similar  thynes.     Note  particularly  General  Richard 
Taylor's  "  Destruction  and  Reconstruction  "  (1879). 

2  The  Sewanee  Review  and  The  South  Atlantic  Quarterly. 


380  INTRODUCTION 

great  intellectual  progress  and  that  the  future  of  Southern  litera 
ture  and  scholarship  is  bright. 

Authoritative  works  dealing  extensively  with  a  literature  so 
recent  as  that  of  the  New  South  are  not,  of  course,  to  be 
had.  The  student  will  do  well,  however,  to  read  Book  VI,  Chap 
ter  III,  of  Wendell's  "A  Literary  History  of  America,"  and  the 
chapter  entitled  "The  South,"  in  Woodberry's  "America  in 
Literature,"  for  the  views  of  representative  critics  not  to  the  section 
born  on  a  few  of  the  later  Southern  writers.  Professor  BaskervilPs 
"  Southern  Writers,"  and  the  supplementary  volume  written  by  his 
pupils  and  friends,  will  afford  the  most  sympathetic  criticism  avail 
able  in  a  collected  form.  Chapter  XI  of  the  present  editor's 
"  Brief  History  of  American  Literature  "  gives  a  sketch  of  the  recent 
literary  work  of  the  entire  country.  An  article  by  Professor  J.  B. 
Henneman  on  "  The  National  Element  in  Southern  Literature,"  in 
The  Sewanee  Review  for  July,  1 903,  will  prove  helpful.  Such  volumes 
as  Mr.  Walter  H.  Page's  "The  Rebuilding  of* Old  Commonwealths  " 
and  Mr.  Edgar  Gardiner  Murphy's  "  The  Present  South  "  should 
prove  useful  as  collateral  reading.  It  is  almost  needless  to  add 
that  it  has  seemed  best  to  avoid  criticism  of  most  of  the  authors 
of  this  period,  and  that  the  large  number  of  current  writers,  and 
the  difficulty  of  maintaining  an  unbiassed  attitude  toward  them, 
has  rendered  the  task  of  making  selections  particularly  onerous 
and  ungrateful.  In  some  cases  —  including  three  of  the  writers 
of  prime  importance  —  copyright  obstacles  were  in  the  way  of 
adequate  representation ;  in  others,  inclusion  would  have  meant 
an  excess  of  fiction  or  poetry  of  a  special  type.  It  is  hoped,  how 
ever,  that  the  selections,  while  not  exhaustive,  are  fairly  representa 
tive  of  the  work  of  the  period.1 

1  Students  wishing  elaborate  lists  of  Southern  writers  will  find  useful  the  appendix 
to  Miss  Louise  Manly's  "  Southern  Literature"  (1895,  1900). 


RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON  381 


RICHARD    MALCOLM   JOHNSTON1 

[RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON  was  born  in  Hancock  County,  Georgia, 
March  8,  1822,  and  died  in  Baltimore,  September  23,  1898.  He  was  gradu 
ated  from  Mercer  University,  Georgia,  in  1841,  taught  school  a  year,  studied 
and  practised  law,  married  early,  and  returned  to  school  teaching  ;  took  up 
the  law  again ;  taught  and  practised  once  more  ;  and  finally  settled  down  as 
professor  of  English  Literature  in  the  University  of  Georgia  from  1857  to  1861. 
He  was  popular  and  successful  in  his  college  work,  but  gave  it  up  to  open  a 
boarding  school  for  boys  in  his  native  county,  and  kept  it  going  through  the 
war.  In  1867,  dissatisfied  with  the  condition  of  affairs  in  the  Georgia  of 
Reconstruction  days,  he  removed  his  school  to  the  neighborhood  of  Balti 
more  and  succeeded  for  about  six  years.  Then  he  kept  a  day  school  and  took 
pupils  in  Baltimore,  being  known  chiefly  as  an  educator,  although  he  had 
begun  to  write  in  the  fifties  and  had  published  a  volume  of  stories  during  the 
war.2  In  1871,  his  racy  stories,  of  Georgia,  the  "  Dukesborough  3  Tales,"  by 
"  Philemon  Perch,"  which  had  appeared  in  The  Southern  Magazine,  were 
collected  in  an  edition  printed  at  Baltimore  ;  but  although  they  passed  to  a 
second  edition  in  1874  they  did  not  gain  much  recognition  until  presented  in 
a  new  form  nine  years  later.  He  collaborated  with  Dr.  William  Hand  Browne 
(now  and  for  many  years  a  professor  in  Johns  Hopkins  University)  in  a  sketch 
of  English  literature  (1872)  and  in  a  biography  of  Alexander  H.  Stephens 
(1878).  He  contributed  stories  to  the  leading  magazines,  and  after  the  suc 
cess  of  the  "  Dukesborough  Tales  "  had  been  assured,  that  is,  when  he  was  over 
sixty  years  old,  he  displayed  remarkable  literary  activity,  confining  himself 
chiefly  to  faithful  and  often  truly  humorous  pictures  of  various  phases  of  Georgia 
life.  A  complete  list  of  his  works  of  fiction  is  unnecessary,  but  "  Old  Mark 
Langston"  (1884),  "Mr.  Absalom  Billingslea  and  Other  Georgia  Folk" 
(1888),  "Widow  Guthrie"  (1890),  and  «  Mr.  Billy  Downes  and  his  Likes" 
(1892)  may  be  named.  His  last  story  was  entitled  "  Pearse  Amerson's 
Will"  (1898).  Besides  writing  his  baker's  dozen  of  novels  and  volumes  of 
tales,  he  delivered  many  lectures  and  read  from  his  own  writings.  Some  of 
his  lectures  were  published  as  volumes  of  literary  and  social  papers  and  were 

1  Colonel  Johnston  is  placed  among  the  writers  of  the  New  South  on  account  of 
the  date  at  which  he  began  to  attain  popularity  as  an  author.    The  early  date  of  his 
birth  would  place  him  before  J.  M.  Legare,  if  a  strictly  chronological  order  were 
followed.    For  much  the  same  reasons  Senator  Lamar  is  transferred  to  this  period. 

2  "  Georgia  Sketches.    By  an  Old  Man,"  Augusta,  1864. 

8  "  Dukesborough  "  was  Powelton,  Georgia,  four  miles  from  the  author's  birth 
place. 


382  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON 

of  pleasant  quality.  In  1895  he  secured  employment  in  the  Bureau  of  Edu 
cation  at  Washington,  and  besides  his  labors  there  wrote  in  his  last  years  an 
autobiography,  which  was  published  posthumously  (1900).  It  may  be  men 
tioned  that  the  title  of  colonel  by  which  Mr.  Johnston  was  generally  known 
was  acquired  by  him  as  staff  officer  to  a  war  governor  of  Georgia,  in  which 
position  he  rendered  efficient  service  to  the  state  militia.  It  may  be  worth 
while  to  mention  also  that  just  after  the  war  Mr.  Johnston,  who  was  brought 
up  as  a  Baptist,  became  a  Roman  Catholic.  The  account  of  his  conversion 
given  in  his  "Autobiography,"  and  his  descriptions  of  those  good  people 
from  whom  he  had  separated  himself,  are  marked  by  a  fine  spirit  of  kindliness, 
which  accords  entirely  with  the  recollections  of  those  who,  like  the  present 
writer,  were  permitted,  if  but  for  a  brief  space,  to  come  in  contact  with  his 
gracious,  cultured  personality.  For  sympathetic  appreciation  of  his  talents, 
see  William  Morton  Payne's  "Editorial  Echoes"  (1902)  and  William  A. 
Webb's  essay  in  "Southern  Writers"  (Vol.  II,  1903).] 

ON  THE  MORROW  OF  SECESSION1 

[FROM  "  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  COLONEL  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON." 
SECOND  EDITION,  1901.] 

WHEN  the  Ordinance  of  Secession  was  accepted  by  the  State 
Convention  I  felt  profound,  painful  solicitude,  and  did  not  for 
bear  on  proper  occasions  to  give  expression  to  it.  Heartiest 
congratulations  were  felt  and  indulged  among  the  townspeople 
and  the  students,  and  it  was  proposed  that  on  some  night  all  the 
houses  should  be  illuminated  in  witness  of  the  universal  joy. 
A  dear  friend  of  mine  among  the  faculty,  who  was  an  ardent 
secessionist,  first  mentioned  that  matter  to  me,  expressing  the 
hope  that  I  would  not  make  myself  the  only  exception  among 
the  citizens,  and  expressed  apprehensions  of  insult  offered  to 
me  if  I  did.  I  said  at  once  that  nothing  could  induce  me  to 
join  in  a  public  manifestation  of  delight  on  an  occasion  so  solemn 
and,  in  my  opinion,  destined  to  lead  to  misfortune.  I  never 
asked,  and  never  knew  what,  if  any,  influence  my  position  had 
with  the  abandonment  of  the  purpose. 

The  trustees  passed  unanimously  a  resolution  of  regret  when  my 
resignation  was  acted  upon.  Not  long  after  the  beginning  of  the 

1  Copyright,  1900,  by  the  Neale  Company.  The  two  extracts  are  printed  by  kind 
permission  of  the  Neale  Company,  Washington,  D.C.,  and  Miss  Erne  E.  Johnston. 


THE  "DUKESBOROUGH"    COUNTRY  383 

next  year  the  college  exercises  were  suspended,  most  of  the  students 
having  gone  into  military  service.  At  the  end  of  the  year  I  retired 
to  the  new  settlement  made  upon  the  plantation  in  Hancock,  my 
native  couhty,  preparatory  to  opening  a  school  for  boys.  I  gave  it 
the  name  of  "Rockby,"  suggested  by  the  many  huge  granite  boulders 
on  the  hillside  above  the  spring  in  the  rear  of  the  mansion. 


THE  "DUKESBOROUGH"   COUNTRY 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

IT  was  always  a  gratification  to  me  that  among  the  surviving 
acquaintances  of  my  earliest  youth,  even  the  plainest,  not  one, 
so  far  as  I  have  heard,  ever  suspected  me  of  meaning  to  ridi 
cule  them,  either  in  class  or  in  individual.  Instead,  whenever 
one  or  even  many  of  my  sketches  may  have  seemed  familiar, 
and  not  infrequently  some  have  said  confidently  that  they 
knew  whom  and  to  what  I  referred,  they  have  recognized  not 
only  the  affection  I  have  always  had  for  them,  but  the  respect, 
admiration,  and  oft  reverence.  I  never  heard  complaint  that  I 
had  done  injustice  to  any  man  of  his  memory.  In  the  particu 
lar  neighborhood  wherein  I  was  born,  and  the  period  of  my 
childhood  was  spent,  I  often  recur  in  this  latest  time  to  the  high 
standards,  then  obtaining  in  domestic  and  social  life,  regarding 
them  as  the  more  noteworthy  because  education  in  books  was 
so  little  diffused.  It  was  about  the  time  of  my  birth  that  acade 
mies  were  established  in  a  few  villages,  notably  in  Powelton  and 
Mount  Zion,  in  our  county.  These  within  a  few  years  rose  to 
great  importance,  and  were  widely  known  and  patronized  by 
leading  families  in  several  counties.  But  the  rural  people  in 
general  received  no  higher  instruction  in  books  than  was  to  be 
obtained  in  what  were  known  as  Old  Field  schools,  wherein 
besides  spelling,  reading  and  writing,  geography,  arithmetic,  and 
English  grammar  were  taught  after  fashions  varying  with  the 
particular  make-up  of  the  schoolmaster,  a  class  of  beings  as 


384  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON 

unique  as  perhaps  were  to  be  found  in  the  world.  .  .  .  Hos 
pitality  was  regarded  as  indispensable,  even  sacred,  duty.  The 
most  leading  citizens  not  infrequently  sat  at  the  board  of  their 
less  gifted  neighbors,  and  had  the  latter  perhaps  more  often 
at  their  own.  Thus  a  sense  of  freedom  was  in  every  man's 
mind,  and  this  led  to  the  evolution  of  those  numerous  individu 
alities  by  which  that  and  the  region  around  was  particularly 
distinguished.  Interchanges  of  visits,  general  rendering  of 
helpful  services  in  cases  of  sickness  or  other  needs,  contributed 
their  part  to  the  development  of  loyalty  to  every  duty,  to  chari 
tableness,  veracity,  and  courage.  The  people  all  laughed  at  one 
another's  eccentricities  and  instances  of  overweening  aspirations, 
and  equally  despised  meanness,  stinginess,  cowardice,  lying,  and 
other  such  defalcations  from  integrity  and  manfulness  of  life. 

A  large  majority  of  the  purely  rural  population  were  Baptists. 
Quite  a  number  of  men  were  members  of  some  church ;  the 
women  were  so  almost  without  exception  ;  the  nonprofessing 
husbands  being  as  zealous  as  the  others  in  all  things  needed  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  meeting-house,  and  as  ardent  partisans 
for  the  tenets  of  the  faith  practised  by  their  wives.  Under  the 
lead  of  the  greatest  preachers  of  the  period,  Jesse  Mercer x  of 
the  Baptists,  and  Lovick  Pierce 2  of  the  Methodists,  was  a  good 
deal  of  asperity  in  discussion  both  inside  of  the  pulpit  and  out. 
Men,  sometimes  women,  freely  engaged  in  animated  argumen 
tations  upon  doctrinal  points,  the  very  subtlest  and  knottiest ; 
men  who  were  not  members  perhaps  counting  for  the  salvation 
of  their  souls  upon  their  being  at  least  not  Methodists  or  not 
Baptists  according  to  the  membership  enrollment  of  their  wives. 
Among  these  people  generally,  especially  among  the  women,  was 
piety  that  was  as  sincere  as  it  was  in  the  main  cheerful.  Many 
had  read  the  whole  Bible  over  and  over  again,  and  were  able  to 
quote  freely  its  recorded  doings  and  sayings. 

1  Born  in  North  Carolina  in  1769,  died  at  Washington,  Georgia,  in  1841.     He 
was  a  diligent  preacher  and  religious  editor  and  a  leader  of  his  church.     Mercer 
University,  largely  endowed  by  him,  was  named  in  his  honor. 

2  Born  in  North  Carolina  in  1785,  died  at  Sparta,  Georgia,  in  1879.    He  was  both 
a  physician  and  a  preacher,  and  a  man  of  much  influence.    His  son,  George  Foster 
Pierce  (1811-1884),  was  an  eloquent  Methodist  bishop. 


A    TOWN  DARKY  IN  THE   COUNTRY  385 

A  TOWN   DARKY   IN   THE   COUNTRY1 
[FROM  "WIDOW  GUTHRIE.    A  NOVEL."    1890.] 

MARCUS,  as  most  of  his  race  were  usually,  was  an  ardent  admirer 
and  partisan  of  his  master.  He  well  knew  his  sentiments  and  feel 
ings  toward  the  Stapletons.  Besides,  being  a  genuine  negro,  he 
had  for  poor  white  people  a  contempt  that  was  graded  by  the 
degree  of  their  poverty.  He  had  laughed  inwardly  at  the  idea  of 
driving  his  fine  team  ten  miles  just  to  see  a  baby  newly  born  to 
those  who,  compared  with  his  own  people,  although  of  the  same 
blood,  were  poor  folks.  Yet  he  was  a  skillful  coachman  and  in 
every  respect  trustworthy  in  his  business.  He  said  to  the  other 
servants  at  home,  and  to  others  that,  of  course,  it  would  be  hard, 
but  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  stand  it  for  one  night,  and  neither  get 
snake-bit  nor  come  back  with  loss  of  all  town  manners.  In  the 
afternoon  he  walked  about  the  premises,  taking  a  lofty  vague  inter 
est  in  what  was  to  be  seen.  The  dinner  he  had  eaten  was  far 
more  satisfactory  than  he  had  counted  upon,  and,  upon  the  whole, 
things  were  not  as  bad  as  he  had  expected.  At  night  the  male  ne 
groes,  very  few  in  number,  tired  from  the  day's  work,  not  long  after 
supper  left  off  listening  to  his  talk,  and  went  to  their  beds.  But 
Clarissy,  who,  notwithstanding  her  having  come  from  the  Staple- 
ton  side,  had  looks  and  manners  for  no  town  negro,  male  or  female, 
to  pretend  to  despise,  politely  lingered  in  the  kitchen  until  her 
services  would  be  needed  in  the  house.  Marcus  thought  he  would 
make  an  impression  upon  her  and  Ritter,  the  cook,  her  mother, 
and  thus  he  began  : 

"  Must  be  monstrous  lonesome  livin'  down  here,  Miss  Clarissy, 
so  fur  away  from  town." 

"  Miss  Clarsy  !  Umph  !  "  muttered  the  mother,  whose  back  was 
turned,  as  she  was  kneading  her  dough  for  to-morrow's  breakfast 
rolls.  She  shifted  her  work  so  that  she  could  face  the  guest,  and, 

1  Copyright,  1890,  by  D.  Appleton  &  Co.    By  kind  permission  of  D.  Apple- 
ton  &  Co.  and  Miss  Johnston. 
2C 


386  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON 

as  if  it  was  her  special  task  to  try  to  maintain  the  conversation 
with  one  so  distinguished,  said : 

"  Lonesome  !  What  'bout  ?  We  all  gits  a  plenty,  jes  as  much 
as  dem  dat  lives  in  town  en  think  dey  got  to  think  more  o'  dey  self 
den  what  we  country  niggers  does." 

Marcus  had  hoped  rather  to  engage  Clarissy  in  the  conversation ; 
still,  he  knew  that  he  could  more  than  hold  his  own  with  any  one 
of  a  people  so  benighted,  and  so  he  blandly  replied  : 

"Yes'm,  Aun'  Ritter;  but  people  does  natchul  love  to  see 
somebody  besides  home  folks  sometimes,  ef  for  nothin'  else,  fur 
to  enjoy  deyself." 

"  Yes ;  ah  ha  !  now  I  understands  you,  Markis,  en  dat  is  jes 
what  we  does  down  here,  when  its  conwenant,  en  we  wants  ter, 
white  folks  en  niggers." 

"  Yes'm,  but  den  in  town,  you  know,  Aun'  Ritter,  dey  is  some 
fun." 

"  What  sort  o'  fun,  man?  Don't  you  en  dem  tother  niggers  dar 
have  no  work  to  do  dat  you  has  all  your  time  exceptin'  when  you 
eat'n  en  sleep'en  to  have  your  fun  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes'm,  we  has  our  work  ;  but  when  it  through  wid  en  night 
come,  a  body  ken  step  out  en  git  some  fresh  ar,  en  have  a  little 
talk  along  wid  'quaint'ces  en  —  en  females,  en  dat  make  whut  we 
calls  town  sisciety." 

She  grabbed  her  dough  as  if  she  would  squeeze  every  breath 
out  of  it,  but  did  not  delay  in  her  words. 

"  Town  'siety  !  Markis,  does  you  want  to  try  to  make  me 
b'lieve  white  folks  lets  you  niggers  go  trompin'  about  all  over  dat 
town  uv  a  night,  havin'  your  'siety,  as  you  call  it,  long  o'  your 
'quaint'ces  en  —  en  —  whut  wus  dem  tother  folks  you  said  ?  " 

"  I  said  females." 

"  Does  you  mean  women,  Markis?  Beca'se  ef  you  does,  en  we 
all  lived  dar,  I  wouldn't  let  Clarsy  have  nothin'  to  do  wid  it.  Dat 
I  wouldn't !  'Quain'ces  en  females  !  My  Lord  !  Whut  will  nig 
gers  come  ter  when  dey  gits  togedder  in  swarms  dat  way,  and  ain' 
got  white  folks  follerin'  'em  'bout  all  de  time !  " 

"  Oh,  laws  o'  me,  Aun'  Ritter,  no  ma'am,"  said  Marcus,  depre- 
catingly,  "  we  don't  do  no  tramping  because  we  has  de  manners  to 


A    TOWN  DARKY  IN  THE   COUNTRY  387 

not  do  sich  as  dat.  But  we  walks  out,  en  may  be,  en  may  be  not, 
jes  as  it  happens,  we  draps  in  en  has  convisation  wid  genelmen 
en  ladies." 

"  Umph,  umph  !  but,  Markis,  in  dat  town  does  dee  call  nigger 
women  —  does  dee  call  'em  females  en  ladies?".  Then  she 
paused  in  her  work  for  a  moment  and  looked  at  him  searchingly. 

"Yes'm,  course  we  calls  'em  females  en  ladies,  des  like  dee 
does  ev'ywhar  ! " 

"  No,  sir,  none  o'  dem  big  words  out  here.  We  calls  niggers 
here  jes  whut  dee  is,  ef  its  men,  er  ef  its  women,  er  ef  its  boys  en 
gals,  includin'  children.  En  whut  time  does  you  break  up  wid 
your  con'gations  you're  talkin'  'bout,  Markis?" 

"  We,  in  gen'l,  Aun'  Ritter,  we  manages  to  be  home  by  nine 
o'clock,  en  may  be  a  leetle  befo' ;  beca'se  den  de  bell  ring,  when 
its  agin  de  law  for  colored  people  to  not  to  be  at  dey  home." 

"  En  s'posen  you  ain'  notice  de  time  'mong  dem  females,  en  you 
git  berlated,  den  whut  ?  You  has  ter  dodge  en  cut  dirt,  don't  yer  ?  " 

"  Oh,  in  dat  case,  we  does  de  bes'  we  ken,  Aun'  Ritter ;  but  we 
in  gen'l  always  knows  de  time,  en  its  monsous  sildom  anybody  git 
took  up." 

By  this  time  Ritter's  work  was  over,  and  she  said  : 

"  Clarsy,  time  you  goin'  in  de  house." 

The  daughter  obeyed  instantly,  then  going  out  for  a  few 
moments  her  mother  found  and  brought  in  a  young  man  and  said  : 

"  Markis,  I  hope  you  ken  try  to  put  up  for  one  night  with  sich 
as  dis  place  can  'ford.  Tears  like  your  Miss  Alice  kin." 

"  Oh,  Aun'  Ritter,  law  me,  ma'am  !  I  been  perfec'  delighted 
down  here.  I  jes  run  on  jes  to  spen'  de  evenin'  wid  you  en  Miss 
Clarsy." 

"  Miss  Clarsy  !  "  She  laughed  heartily,  then  said  to  the  young 
man :  "  Lias,  take  Markis  'long  wid  you  for  de  res'  o'  de  night. 
You  kin  give  him  dat  cot  in  your  house,  er  you  can  give  him  your 
bed  en  you  take  de  cot,  whichever  you  en  him  moughtn't  to  do 
betwix'  you.  You  kin  bofe  go  now." 

Marcus,  on  his  return,  reported  having  had  quite  a  lively  time  of  it, 
especially,  as  he  described,  "  wid  ole  Aun'  Ritter,  a  high  ole  case," 


388  L.    Q.    C.   LAMAR 


L.   Q.    C.    LAMAR 

[Lucius  QUINTUS  CINCINNATUS  LAMAR  was  born  in  Putnam  County, 
Georgia,  September  1, 1825,  and  died  at  Vineville  near  Macon,  Georgia,  January 
23>  I&93'  He  was  a  son  of  a  jurist  of  the  same  name  and  nephew  of  the  poet 
Mirabeau  B.  Lamar  (y.z>.).  He  was  taken  early  to  Oxford,  Mississippi,  and 
partly  educated  there.  He  studied  at  Emory  College,  Georgia,  and  graduated 
there  in  1845,  after  which  he  prepared  for  the  bar  at  Macon  and  began  prac 
tice.  In  1849,  after  a  disappointment  in  love,  he  returned  to  Oxford,  Missis 
sippi,  and  taught  mathematics  at  the  state  university,  but  after  a  short  period 
he  resumed  the  practice  of  the  law  in  Georgia,  where,  in  1853,  he  was  elected  to 
the  legislature.  He  had  previously  married  a  daughter  of  Judge  Longstreet 
(^.z/.).  In  1854  he  again  removed  to  Mississippi,  and  from  1857  to  1860  he  was 
in  Congress  from  that  state.  After  a  short  period  of  teaching  in  the  University 
of  Mississippi  he  served  in  the  army  during  the  early  years  of  the  war,  rising  to 
the  rank  of  colonel.  Ill-health  compelled  him  to  accept  less  active  service,  and 
he  was  sent  as  a  commissioner  to  Russia  —  a  post  which  the  course  of  events 
rendered  much  less  useful  than  it  at  first  promised  to  be.  After  the  war  he 
was  again  a  professor  in  the  University  of  Mississippi,  but  soon  took  up  law 
once  more.  In  1872  he  was  elected  to  Congress,  where  he  was  a  leader  of  the 
Southern  Democrats.  In  1877  he  became  Senator  from  Mississippi,  displaying 
great  ability  and  independence  in  the  position.  Being  instructed  in  1878  by 
the  legislature  of  Mississippi  how  to  vote  on  the  Bland  Bill  for  remonetizing 
silver,  he  refused  to  obey,  and  his  course  was  ultimately  sustained  by  the  people 
of  the  state.  In  connection  with  this  crucial  vote,  he  was  subjected  to  much 
censure  that  hurt  him,  but  he  bore  it  manfully,  and  his  speeches  and  letters 
reflected  the  greatest  credit  upon  him.  In  1881,  although  his  health  was 
becoming  poor,  he  made  a  fine  canvass  and  was  reflected  to  the  Senate. 
In  1885  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of  the  Interior  in  President  Cleveland's 
Cabinet.  Late  in  1887  he  was  nominated  to  a  vacancy  in  the  Supreme  Court. 
There  was  some  partisan  opposition  in  the  Senate,  and,  in  order  to  leave  the 
administration  unembarrassed,  Mr.  Lamar  resigned  from  the  Cabinet. 
Finally  he  was  confirmed  and  took  his  seat  on  the  bench,  laboring  hard 
there  just  as  he  had  done  in  the  Cabinet,  despite  his  increasing  infirmities. 
Upon  his  death  North  and  South  vied  with  one  another  in  expressing  their 
esteem  for  his  noble  character  and  admirable  powers  as  patriot,  orator, 
and  statesman.  His  biography  has  been  written  by  Dr.  Edward  Mayes,  ex- 
chancellor  of  the  University  of  Mississippi  (1896),  and  in  the  appendix  to 
this  volume  the  student  will  find  his  chief  speeches  and  letters.  The  most 
noted  of  the  speeches  is  the  eulogy  of  Sumner  here  given,  but  those  on  the 


THE  EULOGY  OF  SUMNER  389 

Electoral  Count  (1877)  and  the  silver  question,  as  well  as  the  address  on 
Calhoun  (1887),  should  be  taken  into  account  in  any  estimate  of  Lamar's  powers 
as  a  speaker.  His  greatest  services  to  his  countrymen  were,  however,  rendered 
by  him  in  his  capacity  as  a  brave,  intelligent,  fair-minded,  patriotic  man.  See 
the  article  by  Clara  Morris  in  The  Cosmopolitan  for  March,  1904.] 


THE   EULOGY  OF   SUMNER1 
[FROM  MAYES'  "L.  Q.  C.  LAMAR,"  ETC.,  1896.] 

Mr.  Speaker,  —  In  rising  to  second  the  resolutions  just  offered, 
I  desire  to  add  a  few  remarks  which  have  occurred  to  me  as  ap 
propriate  to  the  occasion.  I  believe  that  they  express  a  sentiment 
which  pervades  the  hearts  of  all  the  people  whose  representatives 
are  here  assembled.  Strange  as,  in  looking  back  upon  the  past, 
the  assertion  may  seem,  impossible  as  it  would  have  been  ten 
years  ago  to  make  it,  it  is  not  the  less  true  that  to-day  Mississippi 
regrets  the  death  of  Charles  Sumner,  and  sincerely  unites  in  pay 
ing  honors  to  his  memory.  Not  because  of  the  splendor  of  his 
intellect,  though  in  him  was  extinguished  one  of  the  brightest  of 
the  lights  which  have  illustrated  the  councils  of  the  government 
for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century ;  not  because  of  the  high  culture, 
the  elegant  scholarship,  and  the  varied  learning  which  revealed 
themselves  so  clearly  in  all  his  public  efforts  as  to  justify  the  ap 
plication  to  him  of  Johnson's  felicitous  expression,  "  He  touched 
nothing  which  he  did  not  adorn  " ; 2  not  this,  though  these  are 
qualities  by  no  means,  it  is  to  be  feared,  so  common  in  public 
places  as  to  make  their  disappearance,  in  even  a  single  instance, 
a  matter  of  indifference;  but  because  of  those  peculiar  and 
strongly  marked  moral  traits  of  his  character  which  gave  the  color 
ing  to  the  whole  tenor  of  his  singularly  dramatic  public  career ; 
traits  which  made  him  for  a  long  period  to  a  large  portion  of  his 
countrymen  the  object  of  as  deep  and  passionate  a  hostility  as  to 
another  he  was  one  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  and  which  are  not 

1  The  speech  was  delivered  in  the  House  of  Representatives  April  28,  1874, in 
seconding  the  resolution  for  a  suspension  of  the  consideration  of  public  business 
offered  by  the  Honorable  E.  R.  Hoar  of  Massachusetts.    Thanks  are  due  to  ex- 
Chancellor  Mayes  for  permission  to  follow  the  text  given  in  his  volume. 

2  From  Dr.  Johnson's  epitaph  for  Oliver  Goldsmith. 


390  L.    Q.    C.   LAMAR 

the  less  the  cause  that  now  unites  all  these  parties,  ever  so  widely 
differing,  in  a  common  sorrow  to-day  over  his  lifeless  remains. 

It  is  of  these  high  moral  qualities  which  I  wish  to  speak ;  for 
these  have  been  the  traits  which  in  after  years,  as  I  have  con 
sidered  the  successive  acts  and  utterances  of  this  remarkable  man, 
fastened  most  strongly  my  attention,  and  impressed  themselves 
most  forcibly  upon  my  imagination,  my  sensibilities,  my  heart. 
I  leave  to  others  to  speak  of  his  intellectual  superiority,  of  those 
rare  gifts  with  which  nature  had  so  lavishly  endowed  him,  and  of 
the  power  to  use  them  which  he  had  acquired  by  education.  I 
say  nothing  of  his  vast  and  varied  stores  of  historical  knowledge, 
or  of  the  wide  extent  of  his  reading  in  the  elegant  literature  of 
ancient  and  modern  times,  or  of  his  wonderful  power  of  retaining 
what  he  had  read,  or  of  his  readiness  in  drawing  upon  these  fertile 
resources  to  illustrate  his  own  arguments.  I  say  nothing  of  his 
eloquence  as  an  orator,  of  his  skill  as  a  logician,  or  of  his  powers 
of  fascination  in  the  unrestrained  freedom  of  the  social  circle, 
which  last  it  was  my  misfortune  not  to  have  experienced.  These, 
indeed,  were  the  qualities  which  gave  him  eminence  not  only  in 
our  country,  but  throughout  the  world ;  and  which  have  made  the 
name  of  Charles  Sumner  an  integral  part  of  our  nation's  glory. 
They  were  the  qualities  which  gave  to  those  moral  traits  of  which 
I  have  spoken  the  power  to  impress  themselves  upon  the  history 
of  the  age  and  of  civilization  itself;  and  without  which  those 
traits,  however  intensely  developed,  would  have  exerted  no  in 
fluence  beyond  the  personal  circle  immediately  surrounding  their 
possessor.  More  eloquent  tongues  than  mine  will  do  them  justice. 
Let  me  speak  of  the  characteristics  which  brought  the  illustrious 
Senator  who  has  just  passed  away  into  direct  and  bitter  antagonism 
for  years  with  my  own  State  and  her  sister  States  of  the  South. 

Charles  Sumner  was  born  with  an  instinctive  love  of  freedom, 
and  was  educated  from  his  earliest  infancy  to  the  belief  that 
freedom  is  the  natural  and  indefeasible  right  of  every  intelligent 
being  having  the  outward  form  of  man.  In  him,  in  fact,  this 
creed  seems  to  have  been  something  more  than  a  doctrine 
imbibed  from  teachers,  or  a  result  of  education.  To  him  it  was 
a  grand  intuitive  truth,  inscribed  in  blazing  letters  upon  the  tablet 


THE  EULOGY  OF  SUMNER  391 

of  his  inner  consciousness,  to  deny  which  would  have  been  for 
him  to  deny  that  he  himself  existed.  And  along  with  this  all- 
controlling  love  of  freedom  he  possessed  a  moral  sensibility  keenly 
intense  and  vivid,  a  conscientiousness  which  would  never  permit 
him  to  swerve  by  the  breadth  of  a  hair  from  what  he  pictured  to 
himself  as  the  path  of  duty.  Thus  were  combined  in  him  the 
characteristics  which  have  in  all  ages  given  to  religion  her  martyrs, 
and  to  patriotism  her  self-sacrificing  heroes. 

To  a  man  thoroughly  permeated  and  imbued  with  such  a  creed, 
and  animated  and  constantly  actuated  by  such  a  spirit  of  devotion, 
to  behold  a  human  being  or  a  race  of  human  beings  restrained  of 
their  natural  right  to  liberty,  for  no  crime  by  him  or  them  com 
mitted,  was  to  feel  all  the  belligerent  instincts  of  his  nature  roused 
to  combat.  The  fact  was  to  him  a  wrong  which  no  logic  could 
justify.  It  mattered  not  how  humble  in  the  scale  of  rational 
existence  the  subject  of  this  restraint  might  be,  how  dark  his 
skin,  or  how  dense  his  ignorance.  Behind  all  that  lay  for  him 
the  great  principle  that  liberty  is  the  birthright  of  all  humanity, 
and  that  every  individual  of  every  race  who  has  a  soul  to  save  is 
entitled  to  the  freedom  which  may  enable  him  to  work  out  his 
salvation.  It  mattered  not  that  the  slave  might  be  contented  with 
his  lot ;  that  his  actual  condition  might  be  immeasurably  more 
desirable  than  that  from  which  it  had  transplanted  him ;  that  it 
gave  him  physical  comfort,  mental  and  moral  elevation,  and  reli 
gious  culture  not  possessed  by  his  race  in  any  other  condition  ;  that 
his  bonds  had  not  been  placed  upon  his  hands  by  the  living  genera 
tion  ;  that  the  mixed  social  system  of  which  he  formed  an  element 
had  been  regarded  by  the  fathers  of  the  republic,  and  by  the  ablest 
statesmen  who  had  risen  up  after  them,  as  too  complicated  to  be 
broken  up  without  danger  to  society  itself,  or  even  to  civilization; 
or,  finally,  that  the  actual  state  of  things  had  been  recognized  and 
explicitly  sanctioned  by  the  very  organic  law  of  the  republic. 
Weighty  as  these  considerations  might  be,  formidable  as  were 
the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  practical  enforcement  of  his 
great  principle,  he  held  none  the  less  that  it  must  sooner  or  later 
be  enforced,  though  institutions  and  constitutions  should  have  to 
give  way  alike  before  it.  But  here  let  me  do  this  great  man  the 


392  L.    Q.    C.   LAMAR 

justice  which,  amid  the  excitement  of  the  struggle  between  the 
sections  —  now  past  —  I  may  have  been  disposed  to  deny  him. 
In  this  fiery  zeal,  and  this  earnest  warfare  against  the  wrong,  as  he 
viewed  it,  there  entered  no  enduring  personal  animosity  toward 
the  men  whose  lot  it  was  to  be  born  to  the  system  which  he 
denounced. 

It  has  been  the  kindness  of  the  sympathy  which  in  these  later 
years  he  has  displayed  toward  the  impoverished  and ,  suffering 
people  of  the  Southern  States  that  has  unveiled  to  me  the  gener 
ous  and  tender  heart  which  beat  beneath  the  bosom  of  the  zealot, 
and  has  forced  me  to  yield  him  the  tribute  of  my  respect  —  I 
might  even  say  of  my  admiration.  Nor  in  the  manifestation  of 
this  has  there  been  anything  which  a  proud  and  sensitive  people, 
smarting  under  the  sense  of  recent  discomfiture  and  present  suf 
fering,  might  not  frankly  accept,  or  which  would  give  them  just 
cause  to  suspect  its  sincerity.  For  though  he  raised  his  voice,  as 
soon  as  he  believed  the  momentous  issues  of  this  great  military 
conflict  were  decided,  in  behalf  of  amnesty  to  the  vanquished  ; 
and  though  he  stood  forward,  ready  to  welcome  back  as  brothers, 
and  to  reestablish  in  their  rights  as  citizens,  those  whose  valor  had 
nearly  riven  asunder  the  Union  he  loved ;  yet  he  always  insisted 
that  the  most  ample  protection  and  the  largest  safeguards  should 
be  thrown  around  the  liberties  of  the  newly  enfranchised  African 
race.  Though  he  knew  very  well  that  of  his  conquered  fellow- 
citizens  of  the  South  by  far  the  larger  portion,  even  those  who 
most  heartily  acquiesced  in  and  desired  the  abolition  of  slavery, 
seriously  questioned  the  expediency  of  investing,  in  a  single  day, 
and  without  any  preliminary  tutelage,  so  vast  a  body  of  inexperi 
enced  and  uninstructed  men  with  the  full  rights  of  freemen  and 
voters,  he  would  tolerate  no  halfway  measures  upon  a  point  to  him 
so  vital. 

Indeed,  immediately  after  the  war,  while  other  minds  were 
occupying  themselves  with  different  theories  of  reconstruction,  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  impress  most  emphatically  upon  the  adminis 
tration,  not  only  in  public,  but  in  the  confidence  of  private  inter 
course,  his  uncompromising  resolution  to  oppose  to  the  last  any 
and  every  scheme  which  should  fail  to  provide  the  surest  guaran- 


THE  EULOGY  OF  SUMNER  393 

tees  for  the  personal  freedom  and  political  rights  of  the  race  which 
he  had  undertaken  to  protect.  Whether  his  measures  to  secure 
this  result  showed  him  to  be  a  practical  statesman  or  a  theoretical 
enthusiast,  is  a  question  on  which  any  decision  we  may  pronounce 
to-day  must  await  the  inevitable  revision  of  posterity.  The  spirit 
of  magnanimity,  therefore,  which  breathes  in  his  utterances  and 
manifests  itself  in  all  his  acts  affecting  the  South  during  the  last 
two  years  of  his  life,  was  as  evidently  honest  as  it  was  grateful  to 
the  feelings  of  those  toward  whom  it  was  displayed. 

It  was  certainly  a  gracious  act  toward  the  South  —  though  un 
happily  it  jarred  upon  the  sensibilities  of  the  people  at  the  other 
extreme  of  the  Union,  and  estranged  from  him  the  great  body  of 
his  political  friends  —  to  propose  to  erase  from  the  banners  of  the 
national  army  the  mementos  of  the  bloody  internecine  struggle, 
which  might  be  regarded  as  assailing  the  pride  or  wounding  the 
sensibilities  of  the  Southern  people.1  That  proposal  will  never  be 
forgotten  by  that  people  so  long  as  the  name  of  Charles  Sumner 
lives  in  the  memory  of  man.  But,  while  it  touched  the  heart  of 
the  South,  and  elicited  her  profound  gratitude,  her  people  would 
not  have  asked  of  the  North  such  an  act  of  self-renunciation. 

Conscious  that  they  themselves  were  animated  by  devotion  to 
constitutional  liberty,  and  that  the  brightest  pages  of  history  are 
replete  with  evidences  of  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  that  devotion, 
they  cannot  but  cherish  the  recollections  of  sacrifices  endured,  the 
battles  fought,  and  the  victories  won  in  defense  of  their  hapless 
cause.  And  respecting,  as  all  true  and  brave  men  must  respect, 
the  martial  spirit  with  which  the  men  of  the  North  vindicated  the 
integrity  of  the  Union,  and  their  devotion  to  the  principles  of 
human  freedom,  they  do  not  ask,  they  do  not  wish  the  North  to 
strike  the  mementos  of  her  heroism  and  victory  from  either  rec 
ords  or  monuments  or  battle  flags.  They  would  rather  that  both 
sections  should  gather  up  the  glories  won  by  each  section :  not 
envious,  but  proud  of  each  other,  and  regard  them  a  common 
heritage  of  American  valor. 

1  Sumner  introduced  a  bill  for  this  purpose  in  December,  1872.  He  was  already 
unpopular  with  the  Republicans,  particularly  on  account  of  his  opposition  to  the 
second  election  of  Grant. 


394  L-    Q-    c-  LAMAR 

Let  us  hope  that  future  generations,  when  they  remember  the 
deeds  of  heroism  and  devotion  done  on  both  sides,  will  speak  not 
of  Northern  prowess  and  Southern  courage,  but  of  the  heroism, 
fortitude,  and  courage  of  Americans  in  a  war  of  ideas ;  a  war  in 
which  each  section  signalized  its  consecration  to  the  principles,  as 
each  understood  them,  of  American  liberty  and  of  the  constitution 
received  from  their  fathers. 

It  was  my  misfortune,  perhaps  my  fault,  personally  never  to 
have  known  this  eminent  philanthropist  and  statesman.  The 
impulse  was  often  strong  upon  me  to  go  to  him  and  offer  him 
my  hand,  and  my  heart  with  it,  and  to  express  to  him  my  thanks 
for  his  kind  and  considerate  course  toward  the  people  with 
whom  I  am  identified.  If  I  did  not  yield  to  that  impulse,  it  was 
because  the  thought  occurred  that  other  days  were  coming  in 
which  such  a  demonstration  might  be  more  opportune,  and  less 
liable  to  misconstruction.  Suddenly,  and  without  premonition, 
a  day  has  come  at  last  to  which,  for  such  a  purpose,  there  is  no 
to-morrow.  My  regret  is  therefore  intensified  by  the  thought 
that  I  failed  to  speak  to  him  out  of  the  fulness  of  my  heart  while 
there  was  yet  time. 

How  often  is  it  that  death  thus  brings  unavailingly  back  to 
our  remembrance  opportunities  unimproved  :  in  which  generous 
overtures,  prompted  by  the  heart,  remain  unoffered ;  frank 
avowals  which  rose  to  the  lips  remain  unspoken ;  and  the  in 
justice  and  wrong  of  bitter  resentments  remain  unrepaired  ! 
Charles  Sumner,  in  life,  believed  that  all  occasion  for  strife  and 
distrust  between  the  North  and  South  had  passed  away,  and 
that  there  no  longer  remained  any  cause  for  continual  estrange 
ment  between  these  two  sections  of  our  common  country.  Are 
there  not  many  of  us  who  believe  the  same  thing  ?  Is  not 
that  the  common  sentiment  —  or  if  it  is  not,  ought  it  not  to  be 
—  of  the  great  mass  of  our  people,  North  and  South  ?  Bound 
to  each  other  by  a  common  constitution,  destined  to  live  together 
under  a  common  government,  forming  unitedly  but  a  single 
member  of  the  great  family  of  nations,  shall  we  not  now  at  last 
endeavor  to  grow  toward  each  other  once  more  in  heart,  as  we 
are  already  indissolubly  linked  to  each  other  in  fortunes  ? 


THE  EULOGY  OF  SUMNER  395 

Shall  we  not,  over  the  honored  remains  of  this  great  champion 
of  human  liberty,  this  feeling  sympathizer  with  human  sorrow, 
this  earnest  pleader  for  the  exercise  of  human  tenderness  and 
charity,  lay  aside  the  concealments  which  serve  only  to  per 
petuate  misunderstandings  and  distrust,  and  frankly  confess 
that  on  both  sides  we  most  earnestly  desire  to  be  one  ;  one  not 
merely  in  community  of  language  and  literature  and  traditions 
and  country ;  but  more,  and  better  than  all  that,  one  also  in 
feeling  and  in  heart  ?  Am  I  mistaken  in  this  ? 

Do  the  concealments  of  which  I  speak  still  cover  animosities 
which  neither  time  nor  reflection  nor  the  march  of  events  have 
yet  sufficed  to  subdue  ?  I  cannot  believe  it.  Since  I  have  been 
here  I  have  watched  with  anxious  scrutiny  your  sentiments  as 
expressed  not  merely  in  public  debate,  but  in  the  abandon  of 
personal  confidence.  I  know  well  the  sentiments  of  these,  my 
Southern  brothers,  whose  hearts  are  so  enfolded  that  the  feeling 
of  each  is  the  feeling  of  all ;  and  I  see  on  both  sides  only  the 
seeming  of  a  constraint,  which  each  apparently  hesitates  to 
dismiss.  The  South  —  prostrate,  exhausted,  drained  of  her 
lifeblood,  as  well  as  of  her  material  resources,  yet  still  honorable 
and  true  —  accepts  the  bitter  award  of  the  bloody  arbitrament 
without  reservation,  resolutely  determined  to  abide  the  result 
with  chivalrous  fidelity ;  yet,  as  if  struck  dumb  by  the  magnitude 
of  her  reverses,  she  suffers  on  in  silence.  The  North,  exultant 
in  her  triumph,  and  elated  by  success,  still  cherishes,  as  we  are 
assured,  a  heart  full  of  magnanimous  emotions  toward  her  dis 
armed  and  discomfited  antagonist;  and  yet,  as  if  mastered  by  some 
mysterious  spell,  silencing  her  better  impulses,  her  words  and 
acts  are  the  words  and  acts  of  suspicion  and  distrust. 

Would  that  the  spirit  of  the  illustrious  dead  whom  we  lament 
to-day  could  speak  from  the  grave  to  both  parties  to  this  deplor 
able  discord  in  tones  which  should  reach  each  and  every  heart 
throughout  this  broad  territory:  "  My  countrymen  !  Know  one 
another,  and  you  will  love  one  another." ] 

1  Lamar's  biographer,  ex-Chancellor  Mayes,  tells  us  that  most  of  the  persons 
gathered  to  hear  the  speeches  upon  Sumner  expected  little  more  than  a  conventional 
tribute  of  respect  from  the  Representative  from  Mississippi.  The  House  was 


396  CHARLES  COLCOCK  JONES,  JR. 


CHARLES   COLCOCK  JONES,   JR. 

[CHARLES  COLCOCK  JONES,  the  son  of  a  clergyman  of  the  same  name,  was 
born  in  Savannah,  Georgia,  October  28,  1831,  and  died  near  Augusta,  July 
19,  1893.  He  graduated  at  Princeton,  studied  law  at  Harvard,  and  began 
practice  in  his  native  city,  being  associated  with  Henry  R.  Jackson  (?.».). 
He  was  mayor  of  Savannah  the  year  the  Civil  War  began.  He  joined  the 
army  in  1862  and  served  until  1865,  being  colonel  of  artillery  under  General 
Joseph  E.  Johnston.  After  the  war  he  practised  law  in  New  York 
City  for  twelve  years,  and  then  returned  to  Georgia,  settling  in  Augusta. 
Here  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  study  of  Georgia  history  and  archaeology, 
making  extensive  collections  and  issuing  many  monographs  and  books. 
His  chief  work  is  his  "  History  of  Georgia,"  in  two  volumes,  published  in 
Boston  in  1883.  Other  publications  which  show  the  range  of  his  interests 
are  :  "  Monumental  Remains  of  Georgia  "  (1861),  "  Reminiscences  of  the  Last 
Days,  Death,  and  Burial  of  General  Henry  Lee  "  (1870),  "Dead  Towns  of 
Georgia"  (1878),  "Life,  Labors,  and  Neglected  Grave  of  Richard  Henry 
Wilde"  (1885),  and  the  very  interesting  book  from  which  our  extract  is 
taken,  "Negro  Myths  from  the  Georgia  Coast  told  in  the  Vernacular  "  (1888). 
His  rank  among  Southern  historical  scholars  of  his  day  was  high,  and  was 
attested  by  honorary  degrees  from  both  Northern  and  Southern  colleges.] 

THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  ALLIGATOR1 

[FROM  "NEGRO  MYTHS  FROM  THE  GEORGIA  COAST  TOLD  IN  THE  VERNAC 
ULAR,"  1888.] 

FOREMOST  among  the  reptiles  which  excited  the  curiosity  and 
aroused  the  fears  of  the  Georgia  colonists,  upon  their  first  acquaint 
ance  with  them,  were  the  alligators.  Francis  Moore,  keeper  of 
the  stores,  describing  them  in  1 736,  says  :  "  They  are  terrible  to 

thronged,  but  a  hush  came  over  the  audience  as  the  orator  warmed  to  his  great 
task.  Speaker  Elaine  turned  his  face  away  to  hide  his  tears.  Republican  and 
Democratic  members  throughout  the  hall  were  seen  weeping.  When  Mr.  Lamar 
finished,  there  came  a  storm  of  applause,  and  the  name  of  the  orator  within  a  day 
was  famous  throughout  the  country.  Whatever  opinion  may  now  be  held  as  to  the 
1  justice  of  his  eulogium  of  Sumner,  too  much  praise  can  scarcely  be  given  the  spirit 
in  which  it  was  delivered. 

1  Copyright,  1888.  Here  printed  through  the  kind  permission  of  Charles  Edge- 
worth  Jones,  Esq.,  and  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


THE  NEGRO  AND   THE  ALLIGATOR  397 

look  at,  stretching  open  an  horrible  large  mouth  big  enough  to 
swallow  a  Man,  with  Rows  of  dreadful  large  sharp  Teeth,  and  Feet 
like  Draggons,  armed  with  great  Claws,  and  a  long  Tail  which 
they  throw  about  with  great  Strength,  and  which  seems  their  best 
Weapon,  for  their  Claws  are  feebly  set  on,  and  the  Stiffness  of  their 
Necks  hinders  them  from  turning  nimbly  to  bite."  In  order  to  dis 
sipate  the  general  terror  which  these  strange  saurians  inspired, 
Mr.  Oglethorpe,1  having  wounded  and  caught  one  of  them,  caused 
it  to  be  carried  to  Savannah,  where  he  "  made  the  boys  bait  it 
with  sticks,  and  finally  pelt  and  beat  it  to  death." 

To  the  Europeans,  newly  landed  on  these  shores,  the  alligator 
was  indeed  a  novelty,  repulsive  and  provocative  of  dread.  Not  so 
with  the  negro.  His  ancestors  were  well  acquainted  with  the 
African  crocodile,  and  their  descendants,  dwelling  in  this  marish 
region  filled  with  swamps  and  cypress  ponds,  and  permeated  with 
lagoons,  creeks,  and  rivers  —  the  habitat  of  this  formidable  reptile 
—  were  from  childhood  familiar  with  its  roar,  and  entirely  accus 
tomed  to  its  unsightly  appearance  and  habits.  Among  these 
sable  myth-makers  it  figured  as  an  important  dramatis  persona. 
Of  the  dogs,  geese,  ducks,  and  hogs  of  the  plantation  hands  it  was 
an  avowed  and  voracious  enemy.  When  skirmed  and  thoroughly 
boiled,  its  tail  was  esteemed  by  many  as  a  savory  article  of  food. 
For  the  cure  of  rheumatism  its  oil  was  held  in  special  repute,  and 
the  exuded  musk  was  collected  for  medical  uses.  Its  skin,  rudely 
tanned,  entered  largely  into  the  composition  of  home-made  pouches 
and  shoes.  Whistles  and  powder-charges  were  fabricated  from  the 
tusks,  which  also  served  a  good  turn  for  the  pickaninnies  to  rub 
their  swollen  gums  against,  and  to  cut  their  first  teeth  upon.  A 
constant  depredator  was  the  alligator  upon  the  fish-traps  which 
guarded  the  mouths  of  the  short  creeks  emptying  into  the  rivers. 
Upon  the  reflux  of  the  tide,  entering  the  inclosure,  this  reptile 
gorged  itself  upon  the  fishes  there  detained,  and  incurred  the 
wrath  of  Cuffee,  whose  frying-pan  was  thus  cheated  out  of  its 
anticipated  evening  broil.  Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  the  alligator 
was  regarded  by  the  negro  both  as  an  enemy  and  as  desirable 
game.  During  the  spring  and  summer  they  frequently  met,  and 
1  James  Edward  Oglethorpe  (1698-1785),  the  founder  of  Georgia. 


398          CHARLES  COLCOCK  JONES,  JR. 

whenever  the  former  could  be  taken  at  a  disadvantage  its  life  was 
forfeit  to  the  opportunity.  It  was  killed  in  rice-field  ditches,  in 
shallow  ponds,  and  occasionally  upon  land.  The  hoe,  the  axe,  a 
fence  rail,  and  the  club  were  the  offensive  weapons;  and  loud 
were  the  cries  and  great  was  the  fun  while  the  struggling  reptile 
was  being  beaten  to  death.  In  the  back-waters  and  in  swamps 
where  the  alligators  made  their  nests,  reared  their  young,  and  dug 
their  holes,  the  negroes,  during  their  leisure  hours,  were  fond  of 
capturing  them  by  means  of  a  heavy  iron  hook  fastened  to  the  end 
of  a  long,  stout  pole.  This  was  thrust  into  the  hole  where  the 
reptile  lay.  While  snapping  at  the  hook,  with  its  irritating  prong, 
the  alligator  was  in  the  end  securely  caught  with  the  barb,  and 
then  came  the  tug  of  war.  It  was  in  no  wise  an  easy  operation  to 
draw  from  its  hiding-place  one  of  these  reluctant,  excited,  and 
revolving  monsters.  For  this  purpose  the  combined  strength  of 
several  stalwart  men  barely  sufficed.  The  frolic  was  joyous,  and 
the  exultant  shouts  of  those  engaged  in  the  sport  awakened  strange 
echoes  in  the  depth  of  the  dank  and  moss-clad  swamps.  .  ,  . 

During  the  period  of  hibernation  the  negroes  often  dug  these 
reptiles  out  of  their  holes.  Sometimes  the  alligators  attained 
huge  proportions,  measuring,  from  the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the  end 
of  the  tail,  fourteen  feet.  It  was  fond  of  a  given  locality,  and 
exercised  exclusive  dominion  over  some  favorite  bend  in  the  river, 
some  chosen  part  of  a  lake,  or  some  attractive  pool  in  the  swamp. 
The  patriarch,  with  its  attendant  consort  and  progeny,  there 
reigned  supreme,  unless,  after  severe  battle,  it  was  driven  away  by 
one  more  powerful. 

In  ante-bellum  days,  when  firearms  were  denied  to  the  negro 
population,  alligators  were  far  more  numerous  than  they  are  at 
present.  The  great  demand  for  their  skins  which  has  arisen  of 
late,  the  use  of  the  rifle  in  the  hands  of  tourists,  and  the  employ 
ment  of  the  shot-gun  by  the  freedmen  has  united  in  causing 
a  frightful  mortality  among  these  reptiles.  Bartram1  says  that 

1  William  Bartram  (1739-1823),  the  Pennsylvanian  botanist.  The  quotation  is 
made  from  his  "  Travels,"  etc.  (Philadelphia,  1791),  p.  123.  This  interesting  work 
was  very  popular  in  England  and  Europe  and  has  left  its  traces  on  the  poetry 
of  Wordsworth  and  other  distinguished  writers  of  the  time. 


THE  NEGRO  AND    THE  ALLIGATOR  399 

when  he  visited  the  river  St.  John  the  alligators  at  one  point  "  were 
in  such  incredible  numbers,  and  so  close  together  from  shore  to 
shore,  that  it  would  have  been  easy  to  have  walked  across  on  their 
heads,  had  the  animals  been  harmless." 

For  the  capture  of  animals  drinking  at  the  water's  edge,  or  swim 
ming  in  lake  or  river,  the  tail  was  employed.  A  stunning  blow 
having  thus  been  delivered,  the  victim  was  caught  in  the  open  jaws, 
and  thence  transported  to  the  dwelling-place  of  the  reptile,  where 
it  was  guarded  until  decomposition  had  fairly  supervened.  It  was 
then  eaten  at  leisure  with  apparent  relish.  Sometimes  days  were 
allowed  to  elapse  before  the  slain  animal  or  bird  became  suitably 
seasoned  for  the  feast. 

While  hogs,  dogs,  calves,  sheep,  geese,  and  ducks  were  often 
captured  by  alligators,  they  seldom  attacked  human  beings.  Of 
mankind  they  apparently  entertained  an  inborn  fear,  and  would 
quit  the  part  of  the  river  or  lagoon  in  which  men  or  even  boys 
were  swimming.  Instances  are  rare  in  which  human  life  has  been 
sacrificed  to  the  voracity  of  these  monsters.  The  writer  remem 
bers  several  occasions,  however,  on  which  men  and  children  were 
attacked  by  alligators.  He  will  be  pardoned  for  recalling  one  of 
them. 

Sawney  had  a  wife  who  resided  upon  a  neighboring  plantation. 
It  was  his  habit  to  visit  his  wife  every  Saturday  night,  and  remain 
with  her  until  Monday  morning.  On  these  journeys  he  would 
carry  a  bag  containing  provisions  and  such  choice  morsels  as  he 
had  been  able,  during  the  week,  to  accumulate  for  his  better  half. 
Near  the  negro  quarter,  where  he  resided  on  the  home-plantation, 
was  a  small  creek,  in  which  the  tide  ebbed  and  flowed.  A  large 
log  furnished  convenient  means  for  crossing  it.  On  the  night  in 
question,  shortly  after  dark,  Sawney  shouldered  his  well-filled  bag 
and  set  out  for  his  wife's  house.  The  tide  was  flowing  into  the 
creek.  Instead  of  crossing  on  the  log,  he  saw  fit  to  descend  the 
gentle  bank  and  wade  through  the  water.  It  was  not  more  than 
half-leg  deep,  and  the  creek  was  only  some  ten  yards  wide.  When 
he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  stream  his  attention  was  attracted  by 
a  movement  in  the  water.  Instead  of  getting  out  upon  the 
bank,  which  he  could  readily  have  done,  he  paused,  and  began  to 


400  SUSAN  DABNEY  SMEDES 

parley  with  what,  in  the  darkness,  he  conceived  to  be  a  "  spent." 
"  Tan  back,  Mossa  Sperit,  an  lemme  pass.  Tan  back,  Mossa 
Sperit;  me  do  you  no  harm."  In  this  idiotic  and  frightened 
manner  he  stood  idly  talking,  until  what  proved  to  be  a  large  alli 
gator  approached  and  laid  violent  hold  of  his  right  leg.  He  was 
quickly  thrown  down  by  the  reptile.  In  the  confusion  which 
ensued,  and  amid  the  struggles  and  yells  of  the  negro,  the  alligator 
for  the  moment  relaxed  his  hold,  and  was  attracted  by  the  fallen 
bag,  which  it  tore  in  pieces.  Sawney  had  so  completely  lost  his 
wits,  was  so  terrified,  and  was  suffering  so  much  pain,  that  he 
neglected  to  improve  the  opportunity  thus  afforded,  and  betake 
himself  to  flight.  He  remained  rooted  to  the  spot,  howling,  pray 
ing,  and  calling  for  help.  Having  in  a  little  while  disposed  of  the 
bag,  the  alligator  renewed  its  attack  upon  the  frightened  negro, 
threw  him  down,  broke  his  left  arm,  and  frightfully  lacerated  it  and 
one  of  his  legs. 

The  negroes  at  the  quarters  hard  by,  hearing  the  noise  and  cries 
for  help,  armed  with  torches,  hoes,  axes,  and  billets,  rushed  to  the 
spot  just  in  time  to  save  the  life  of  the  unfortunate  man.  The  alli 
gator  was  beaten  to  death.  It  measured  nearly  eleven  feet,  and 
was  very  stout.  Sawney's  wounds  proved  well-nigh  fatal.  He  was 
confined  to  his  cabin  for  quite  three  months,  and,  during  that  time, 
required  and  received  the  careful  attention  of  a  competent  surgeon. 

The  lazy  way  in  which  the  negro  was  in  the  habit  of  fishing, 
perched  upon  a  tussock,  with  feet  and  rod  trailing  in  the  water, 
somnolent  and  in  utter  silence,  did  sometimes  invite  and  receive  a 
flirt  from  the  tail  of  the  reigning  alligator,  defending  its  preserves 
against  all  poachers. 

The  old  memories  are  fast  drifting  away  into  the  shadows,  and 
the  modern  negro  and  the  alligator  of  the  present  are  but  partial 
types  of  things  that  were. 


MRS.    SUSAN    DABNEY   SMEDES 

[Mrs.  Smedes  was  born  at  Raymond,  Hinds  County,  Mississippi,  August 
10,  1840,  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  S.  Dabney,  a  planter  whose  life  forms 
the  central  feature  of  her  well-known  volume  descriptive  of  Southern  charac- 


A  HERO    OF  THE   OLD  SOUTH  40! 

ter  and  modes  of  life,  entitled  "  Memorials  of  a  Southern  Planter  "  (1887). 
She  was  early  married  to  Mr.  Lyell  Smedes,  but  was  soon  left  a  widow.  She 
has  devoted  herself  to  philanthropical  work,  and  has  resided  in  the  far  West, 
in  Baltimore,  where  she  finished  her  book,  and  in  the  mountains  of  Tennessee. 
Her  present  home  is  Sewanee,  Tennessee,  the  seat  of  the  University  of  the 
South.  Her  "  Memorials  of  a  Southern  Planter  "  was  highly  praised  upon  its 
appearance,  and  drew  a  most  appreciative  letter  from  Mr.  Gladstone.  An 
English  edition,  entitled  "  A  Southern  Planter,"  with  a  prefatory  note  by 
Mr.  Gladstone,  was  issued  in  1889.  It  should  be  remarked  that  Mrs.  Smedes 
is  not  the  only  member  of  her  family  noted  for  the  possession  of  literary  ability. 
Her  brother,  the  late  Virginius  Dabney,  is  remembered  for  his  brilliant  qualities 
and  as  the  author  of  "  Don  Miff"  (1886),  an  interesting  and  uncommon  story 
of  Virginia  life.  ] 


A  HERO   OF   THE  OLD  SOUTH  l 

[FROM  "MEMORIALS  OF  A  SOUTHERN  PLANTER,"  1887.] 

AND  now  a  great  blow  fell  on  Thomas  Dabney.  Shortly 
before  the  war  he  had  been  asked  by  a  trusted  friend  to  put  his 
name  as  security  on  some  papers  for  a  good  many  thousand 
dollars.  At  the  time  he  was  assured  that  his  name  would  only 
be  wanted  to  tide  over  a  crisis  of  two  weeks,  and  that  he  would 
never  hear  of  the  papers  again.  It  was  a  trap  set,  and  his  un 
suspicious  nature  saw  no  danger,  and  he  put  his  name  to  the 
papers.  Loving  this  man,  and  confiding  in  his  honor  as  in  a 
son's,  he  thought  no  more  of  the  transaction. 

It  was  now  the  autumn  of  1866.  One  night  he  walked  up 
stairs  to  the  room  where  his  children  were  sitting  with  a  paper 
in  his  hand.  "  My  children,"  he  said,  "  I  am  a  ruined  man.  The 
sheriff  is  down-stairs.  He  has  served  this  writ  on  me.  It  is  for  a 
security  debt.  I  do  not  even  know  how  many  more  such  papers 
have  my  name  to  them."  His  face  was  white  as  he  said  these 
words.  He  was  sixty-eight  years  of  age,  with  a  large  and  help 
less  family  on  his  hands,  and  the  country  in  such  a  condition 
that  young  men  scarcely  knew  how  to  make  a  livelihood. 

1  Copyright,  1887.     Here  printed  by  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Smedes  and  of 
James  Pott  &  Co. 
2D 


402  MRS.   SUSAN  DABNEY  SMEDES 

The  sheriff  came  with  more  writs.  Thomas  roused  himself 
to  meet  them  all.  He  determined  to  pay  every  dollar. 

But  to  do  this  he  must  have  time.  The  sale  of  everything 
that  he  owned  would  not  pay  all  these  claims.  He  put  the 
business  in  the  hands  of  his  lawyer,  Mr.  John  Shelton,  of  Ray 
mond,  who  was  also  his  intimate  friend.  Mr.  Shelton  contested 
the  claims,  and  this  delayed  things  till  Thomas  could  decide 
on  some  way  of  paying  the  debts. 

A  gentleman  to  whom  he  owed  personally  several  thousand 
dollars  courteously  forbore  to  send  in  his  claim.  Thomas  was 
determined  that  he  should  not  on  this  account  fail  to  get  his 
money,  and  wrote  urging  him  to  bring  a  friendly  suit,  that,  if 
the  worst  came,  he  should  at  least  get  his  proportion.  Thus 
urged,  the  friendly  suit  was  brought,  the  man  deprecating  the 
proceeding,  as  looking  like  pressing  a  gentleman. 

And  now  the  judgments,  as  he  knew  they  would,  went  against 
him  one  by  one.  On  the  2yth  of  November,  1866,  the  Burleigh 
plantation  was  put  up  at  auction  and  sold,  but  the  privilege  of 
buying  it  in  a  certain  time  reserved  to  Thomas.  At  this  time 
incendiary  fires  were  common.  There  was  not  much  law  in  the 
land.  We  heard  of  the  gin-houses  and  cotton-houses  that  were 
burned  in  all  directions'.  One  day  as  Thomas  came  back  from  a 
business  journey  the  smouldering  ruins  of  his  gin-house  met  his 
eye.  The  building  was  itself  valuable  and  necessary.  All  the 
cotton  that  he  owned  was  consumed  in  it.  He  had  not  a  dollar. 
He  had  to  borrow  the  money  to  buy  a  postage  stamp,  not  only 
during  this  year,  but  during  many  years  to  come.  It  was  a  time 
of  deepest  gloom.  Thomas  had  been  wounded  to  the  bottom 
of  his  affectionate  heart  by  the  perfidy  of  the  man  who  had 
brought  this  on  his  house.  In  the  midst  of  the  grinding  poverty 
that  now  fell  in  full  force  on  him,  he  heard  of  the  reckless 
extravagance  of  this  man  on  the  money  that  should  have  been 
used  to  meet  these  debts. 

Many  honorable  men  in  the  South  were  taking  the  benefit 
of  the  bankrupt  law.  Thomas's  relations  and  friends  urged  him 
to  take  the  law.  It  was  madness,  they  said,  for  a  man  of  his 
age,  in  the  condition  the  country  was  then  in,  to  talk  of  settling 


A  HERO  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH         403 

the  immense  debts  that  were  against  him.  He  refused  with 
scorn  to  listen  to  such  proposals.  But  his  heart  was  wellnigh 
broken. 

He  called  his  children  around  him,  as  he  lay  in  bed,  not  eating 
and  scarcely  sleeping. 

"  My  children,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  have  nothing  to  leave  you 
but  a  fair  name.  But  you  may  depend  that  I  shall  leave  you 
that.  I  shall,  if  I  Jive,  pay  every  dollar  that  I  owe.  If  I  die, 
I  leave  these  debts  to  you  to  discharge.  Do  not  let  my  name 
be  dishonoured.  Some  men  would  kill  themselves  for  this.  I 
shall  not  do  that.  But  I  shall  die." 

The  grief  of  betrayed  trust  was  the  bitterest  drop  in  his  cup  of 
suffering.  But  he  soon  roused  himself  from  this  depression  and 
set  about  arranging  to  raise  the  money  needed  to  buy  in  the  plan 
tation.  It  could  only  be  done  by  giving  up  all  the  money  brought 
in  by  the  cotton  crop  for  many  years.  This  meant  rigid  self-denial 
for  himself  and  his  children.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
seeing  his  daughters  deprived  of  comforts.  He  was  ready  to 
stand  unflinchingly  any  fate  that  might  be  in  store  for  him.  But 
his  tenderest  feelings  were  stirred  for  them.  His  chivalrous  nature 
had  always  revolted  from  the  sight  of  a  woman'  doing  hard  work. 
He  determined  to  spare  his  daughters  all  such  labor  as  he  could 
perform.  General  Sherman  had  said  that  he  would  like  to  bring 
every  Southern  woman  to  the  wash-tub.1  "  He  shall  never  bring  my 
daughters  to  the  wash-tub,"  Thomas  Dabney  said.  "  I  will  do  the 
washing  myself."  And  he  did  it  for  two  years.  He  was  in  his 
seventieth  year  when  he  began  to  do  it. 

This  may  give  some  idea  of  the  labors,  the  privations,  the  hard 
ships,  of  those  terrible  years.  The  most  intimate  friends  of 
Thomas,  nay,  his  own  children,  who  were  not  in  the  daily  life  at 
Burleigh,  have  never  known  the  unprecedented  self-denial,  carried 
to  the  extent  of  acutest  bodily  sufferings,  which  he  practised  dur 
ing  this  time.  A  curtain  must  be  drawn  over  this  part  of  the  life 
of  my  lion-hearted  father  ! 

1  Thomas  had  read  this  in  one  of  the  papers  published  during  the  famous  march 
to  the  sea.  Whether  General  Sherman  was  correctly  reported  I  know  not.  —  S.  D.  S. 


404  SIDNEY  LANIER 


SIDNEY   LANIER 

[SIDNEY  LANIER  was  born  in  Macon,  Georgia,  February  3,  1842,  and  died 
at  Lynn,  in  the  mountains  of  North  Carolina,  September  7,  1881.  He  was  of 
Huguenot  extraction,  and  from  his  childhood  was  marked  by  an  overpower 
ing  passion  for  music.  He  learned  to  play  practically  without  instruction  on 
almost  every  instrument,  especially  the  flute.  At  fourteen  he  entered  the 
Sophomore  class  of  Oglethorpe  University  (at  Midway,  Georgia),  was  ab 
sent  a  year  doing  clerical  work  in  the  post-office  at  home,  and  graduated  at 
eighteen,  with  the  highest  honors  of  the  class.  He  was  made  a  tutor  in  the 
college,  but  the  war  broke  out  and  he  soon  entered  the  army,  going  with 
his  battalion  to  Virginia.  He  saw  the  great  battles  around  Richmond,  serving 
as  a  private,  for  he  refused  promotion  in  order  not  to  be  separated  from  his 
brother  Clifford  —  himself  a  poet.  Toward  the  end  of  the  struggle  they  were 
separated  and  each  was  placed  in  charge  of  a  blockade-running  vessel.  Sidney 
was  captured  and'confined  for  five  months  in  Point  Lookout  Prison.  His  flute 
was  his  comforter  during  this  weary  period,  and  it  cheered  him  on  his  return 
journey  to  Georgia,  which  he  began  in  February,  1865,  with  a  twenty-dollar 
gold  piece  in  his  pocket.  His  war  experiences  were  shortly  after  described  in 
his  only  novel,  "Tiger  Lilies"  (1867),  a  work  which  failed  and  has  not  been 
reprinted.  He  reached  home  exhausted,  and  4he  seeds  of  consumption  were 
developed.  Recovering  some  of  his  strength,  he  became  a  clerk  in  a  hotel  at 
Montgomery,  Alabama  ;  then  in  May,  1867,  he  went  to  New  York  to  publish 
"  Tiger  Lilies,"  which  had  been  written  in  April.  In  the  fall  of  the  same  year 
he  began  to  teach  a  country  school  in  Prattville,  Alabama  ;  and  in  December 
he  experienced  the  greatest  joy  of  his  life  in  his  marriage  to  Miss  Mary  Day 
of  Macon  —  who  still  survives  as  his  widow,  and  in  her  devotion  to  his  memory 
and  fame  is  as  constant  as  she  was  in  her  ministrations  to  his  suffering  body 
and  aspiring  spirit  through  the  brief  span  of  years  Providence  permitted  them 
to  pass  together. 

Previous  to  his  marriage  Lanier  had  written  a  few  poems  now  made  accessi 
ble  to  students,  and  interesting  from  the  glimpses  they  give  of  his  development 
under  untoward  circumstances,  apart  from  books  and  the  encouragement  of 
kindred  spirits.  In  the  spring  of  1868  he  returned  to  Macon  much  reduced 
in  health.  Here  he  studied  law  and  practised  with  his  father,  but  was  un 
happy  both  because  he  felt  that  his  genius  called  him  to  higher  work  and 
because  he  was  given  little  respite  by  his  dreadful  disease.  In  November,  1872, 
he  left  his  wife  and  children  and  went  to  San  Antonio,  Texas,  seeking  but  not 
finding  a  favorable  climate.  Then  with  magnificent  courage  he  determined 
that  come  what  might  he  would  finish  his  life  in  the  service  of  the  two  arts  of 


SIDNEY  LANIER  405 

his  love,  —  music  and  literature.  Ttys  meant  that  he  must  live  in  the  North,  for 
the  South  in  Reconstruction  times  offered  few  opportunities  to  musician  or 
author.  After  visiting  New  York  for  the  third  time  —  his  second  visit  in  1870 
was  made  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  physicians  —  he  settled  in  Baltimore 
in  December,  1873,  as  first  flute  in  the  Peabody  Symphony  Concerts.  The 
selections  that  have  been  made  from  his  correspondence  throw  a  clear  light 
upon  his  feelings  when  he  first  had  an  opportunity  to  hear  great  music,  to 
converse  with  musicians  and  literary  people,  and  to  secure  the  books  he 
needed.  It  is  a  fine  record  of  true  genius  struggling  with  inexorable  but 
not  altogether  unrelaxing  fate.  He  made  firm  friends,  among  them  Mr. 
Gibson  Peacock,  editor  of  the  Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin,  Charlotte 
Cushman,  the  great  actress,  and  Bayard  Taylor,  the  devoted  poet,  versatile 
man  of  letters,  and  charming  companion.  He  began  to  study  more  deeply 
his  two  arts,  being  specially  interested  in  the  relations  between  them  and  in 
the  earlier  monuments  of  English  literature.  The  bent  of  his  studies  showed 
that  his  mind  "was  peculiarly  sensitive  to  the  intellectual  and  artistic 
tendencies  of  his  time,  and  that  if  he  had  lived,  he  would  have  received  the 
honors  due  to  pioneers  in  new  movements."  But  this  was  not  to  be.  His 
studies  were  interrupted  by  attacks  of  his  disease  which  sent  him  North  and 
South,  to  Pennsylvania,  North  Carolina,  and  Florida  in  search  of  health,  and 
also  by  the  demands  made  upon  his  energy  and  his  time  by  the  poverty  that 
confronted  him.  He  had  to  lecture  to  schools,  to  write  poems  for  magazines, 
to  compose  articles  on  not  specially  congenial  subjects  in  order  to  support  his 
family  frugally.  But  he  never  thought  of  despairing.  His  father  and  brother 
and  friends  and  above  all  his  wife  stood  by  him,  and  some  encouragement  was 
given  him  by  the  public.  His  fine  reflective  poem  "  Corn  "  —  in  the  category 
of  Bryant's  "  Song  of  the  Sower "  and  Timrod's  "  Cotton  Boll,"  though 
individual  in  manner  —  was  written  in  the  summer  of  1874,  while  he  was 
writing  a  Florida  guide-book  for  a  railway  company,  and  was  published  in 
Lippincoti 's  Magazine,  where  it  attracted  much  attention.  It  led  to  Bayard 
Taylor's  interest  in  him,  and  this  led  to  his  being  selected  to  write  the  cantata 
for  the  opening  of  the  Centennial  Exposition  of  1876.  It  was  about  this  time 
that  he  felt  justified  in  having  his  wife  and  children  join  him  in  the  North. 
His  health  again  broke  down,  however,  and  he  had  to  hurry  South  ;  but  the  next 
year  he  tried  the  colder  climate  once  more,  publishing  a  small  volume  of  his 
poems  and  making  his  home  in  Baltimore,  where  he  played  in  concerts  for  the 
next  three  winters.  He  also  gave  courses  of  lectures  —  one  of  them  on  Shake 
speare  and  only  recently  published  —  which  led  to  his  appointment  early  in 
1879  to  a  lectureship  in  literature  in  Johns  Hopkins  University.  This  promised 
a  permanent  source  of  income  and  greatly  cheered  him.  One  result  was  his 
delivery  of  courses,  which  were  developed  into  two  books,  his  important 
"Science  of  English  Verse "  (1880)  and  his  less  valuable  "English  Novel" 
(1883);  another  was  his  inspiration  to  write  some  of  his  most  noteworthy 
poems,  "  The  Revenge  of  Hamish,"  "  The  Song  of  the  Chattahoochee,"  and 


406  SIDNEY  LANIER 

his  most  ambitious  attempt  to  fuse  music  and  poetry,  and  one  might  add  the 
colors  of  painting,  his  now  famous  "  Marshes  of  Glynn,"  the  precursor  of  his 
unfinished  "  Hymns  of  the  Marshes,"  the  poetical  quality  of  which  is  indicated 
by  "  Sunrise."  While  this  work  was  doing,  the  poet's  health  had  been  steadily 
deteriorating,  and  in  April,  1881,  he  broke  down  with  his  course  of  lectures 
on  the  novel  but  little  more  than  half  finished.  Yet  ever  hopeful  he  went  to 
New  York  to  arrange  for  companion  volumes  to  his  "  Boy's  Froissart "  (1878) 
and  "Boy's  King  Arthur"  (1880).  "The  Boy's  Mabinogion  "  (1881)  and 
"The  Boy's  Percy"  (1882)  did  appear,  but  only  after  the  death  of  the  man 
who  had  wished  that  young  people  should  be  able  to  share  the  joy  he  had 
taken  in  the  writers  and  the  legends  of  the  past. 

The  rest  of  the  sad  story  is  quickly  told.  His  physicians  suggested  that  he 
try  tent  life  in  the  mountains  of  North  Carolina,  and  a  railroad  company  asked 
him  to  write  a  description  of  the  region.  Accordingly,  with  his  brother  Clif 
ford,  he  went  into  camp  near  Asheville  in  May,  1881.  Then  Mrs.  Lanier  and 
her  infant  replaced  the  brother,  and  the  poet's  parents  came  later.  No  im 
provement  being  shown,  he  was  removed  to  Lynn,  and  there,  a  gleam  of  hope 
having  been  given,  Mrs.  Lanier  was  left  alone  with  her  dying  husband.  He 
lingered  for  a  week  and  then  the  brave  fight  was  over. 

Since  his  death  his  reputation  has  steadily  risen,  until  to-day  he  is  generally 
regarded  as  the  most  important  Southern  man  of  letters  since  Poe.  Some  of 
his  admirers  consider  him  the  greatest  poet  America  has  produced  since  the 
New  England  poets  were  in  their  prime.  The  publication  of  his  complete 
poems  with  a  memoir  (1884),  followed  by  several  posthumous  volumes,  —  such 
as  the  miscellaneous  prose  collections  entitled  "  Music  and  Poetry"  (1898)  and 
"  Retrospects  and  Prospects  "  and  his  "  Letters  "  (1899),  many  items  of  which 
had  been  previously  published  in  magazines,  —  brought  at  various  times  before 
the  critics  and  the  public  a  mass  of  work  that  revealed  the  scope  of  his  genius 
and  made  necessary  a  careful  consideration  of  his  claims  to  eminence.  On  the 
whole  the  verdict  of  the  critics  has  been  decidedly  in  his  favor,  and  the  number 
of  his  admirers  has  apparently  increased,  which  is  a  favorable  sign.  The  chief 
doubt  expressed  by  critics  who  are  only  moderately  impressed  by  his  powers 
centres  in  the  question  whether  his  genius  was  not  rather  musical  than  poetical, 
and  whether  he  was  not  led  in  consequence  to  attempt  high  flights  of  song 
that  obviously  strained  his  strength.  The  harmonies,  the  colors,  the  spiritual 
aspirations  of  "  Sunrise  "  are  exhilarating  and  enrapturing  to  some  readers  ; 
others  feel  that  in  this  and  some  of  its  companion  poems  Lanier's  genius  did 
not  move  with  the  sure  mastery  of  poetic  art  but  rather  with  spasmodic  power. 
The  matter  cannot  be  decided  yet  and  perhaps  never  will  be  ;  and  surely 
there  is  enough  admirable  poetry  in  "  Corn,"  "  My  Springs,"  "  Opposition," 
and  in  some  of  the  exquisite  snatches  of  song  such  as  the  "  Evening  Song  " 
and  "  Night  and  Day,"  to  say  nothing  of  sonnets  and  occasional  poems  and  of 
the  juvenile  poetry,  which  contains  early  work  in  the  negro  dialect  and  other 
promising  things,  to  warrant  the  claim  that  Lanier's  place  in  American  poetry 


OPPOSITION  407 

will  be  high  and  permanent.  '  If  the  memory  of  his  noble  life  ever  ceases  to 
be  precious  to  his  countrymen  it  will  be  because  they  have  lost  their  sense  of 
the  heroic  and  the  pathetic. 

For  the  study  of  Lanier  the  student  will  find  Professor  Morgan  Callaway's 
"  Select  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier"  (1895),  witn  its  introduction  and  notes,  dis 
tinctly  helpful.  There  is  a  sympathetic  essay  in  Thomas  Wentworth  Higgin- 
son's  "Contemporaries"  (1898).  There  is  a  "study"  of  the  poems  by 
Professor  C.  W.  Kent  of  the  University  of  Virginia  in  the  Publications  of  the 
Modern  Language  Association  of  America  for  1892  (Vol.  7).  BaskervilFs 
"  Southern  Writers"  (1898)  should  also  be  consulted,  as  well  as  articles  by 
W.  P.  Woolf  and  L.  W.  Payne,  Jr.,  in  The  Sewanee  Review  for  July,  1900,  July, 
1902,  and  October,  1903.  See  also  "  Sidney  Lanier,  Recollections  and  Letters," 
by  M.  H.  Northrop,  in  Lippincott'1  s  Monthly  Magazine,  March,  1905,  and 
"  Sidney  Lanier  :  Reminiscences  and  Letters,"  by  ex-President  D.  C.  Oilman, 
in  The  South  Atlantic  Quarterly,  April,  1905.  A  biography  of  Lanier  is 
being  prepared  for  the  "  American  Men  of  Letters  "  series  by  Professor  Edwin 
Mims  of  Trinity  College,  Durham,  North  Carolina.] 


OPPOSITION  i 

[FROM  "  POEMS  OF  SIDNEY  LANIER.    EDITED  BY  HIS  WIFE."     1888.] 

OF  fret,  of  dark,  of  thorn,  of  chill, 

Complain  no  more  ;  for  these,  O  heart, 

Direct  the  random  of  the  will 
As  rhymes  direct  the  rage  of  art. 

The  lute's  fixed  fret,  that  runs  athwart 
The  strain  and  purpose  of  the  string, 

For  governance  and  nice  consort 
Doth  bar  his  wilful  wavering. 

The  dark  hath  many  dear  avails ; 

The  dark  distils  divinest  dews  ; 
The  dark  is  rich  with  nightingales, 

With  dreams,  and  with  the  heavenly  Muse. 

Bleeding  with  thorns  of  petty  strife, 
I'll  ease  (as  lovers  do)  my  smart 

1  Copyright,  1884  and  1891,  by  Mary  D.  Lanier,  and  published  by  Charles  Scrib- 
ner's  Sons.     By  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Lanier  and  the  publishers. 


408  SIDNEY  LANIER 

With  sonnets  to  my  lady  Life 
Writ  red  in  issues  from  the  heart. 

What  grace  may  lie  within  the  chill 
Of  favor  frozen  fast  in  scorn  ! 

When  Good's  a-freeze,  we  call  it  111  1 
This  rosy  Time  is  glacier-born. 

Of  fret,  of  dark,  of  thorn,  of  chill, 

Complain  thou  not,  O  heart ;  for  these 

Bank-in  the  current  of  the  will 
To  uses,  arts,  and  charities. 

BALTIMORE,  1878-80. 


EVENING   SONG1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

LOOK  off,  dear  Love,  across  the  shallow  sands, 

And  mark  yon  meeting  of  the  sun  and  sea, 
How  long  they  kiss  in  sight  of  all  the  lands. 
Ah  !  longer,  longer,  we. 

Now  in  the  sea's  red  vintage  melts  the  sun, 
As  Egypt's  pearl  dissolved  in  rosy  wine, 
And  Cleopatra  night  drinks  all.     'Tis  done,  > 
Love,  lay  thine  hand  in  mine. 

Come  forth,  sweet  stars,  and  comfort  heaven's  heart ; 

Glimmer,  ye  waves,  round  else  unlighted  sands. 
O  night  1  divorce  our  sun  and  sky  apart 

Never  our  lips,  our  hands.2 
1876. 

1  From  "  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier."     Copyright,  1884  and  1891,  by  Mary  D. 
Lanier,  and  published  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.    By  kind  permission  of  Mrs. 
Lanier  and  the  publishers. 

2  Set  to  music  by  Dudley  Buck. 


THE  MARSHES   OF  GLYNN  409 

THE  MARSHES  OF   GLYNN1 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

GLOOMS  of  the  live-oaks,  beautiful-braided  and  woven 
With  intricate  shades  of  the  vines  that  myriad-cloven 
Clamber  the  forks  of  the  multiform  boughs,  — 
Emerald  twilights,  — 
Virginal  shy  lights, 

Wrought  of  the  leaves  to  allure  to  the  whisper  of  vows, 
When  lovers  pace  timidly  down  through  the  green  colonnades 
Of  the  dim  sweet  woods,  of  the  dear  dark  woods, 

Of  the  heavenly  woods  and  glades, 
That  run  to  the  radiant  marginal  sand-beach  within 
The  wide  sea-marshes  of  Glynn 2 ;  — 

Beautiful  glooms,  soft  dusks  in  the  noon-day  fire, — 
Wildwood  privacies,  closets  of  lone  desire, 

Chamber  from  chamber  parted  with  wavering  arras  of  leaves,  — 
Cells  for  the  passionate   pleasure  of  prayer  to   the   soul  that 

grieves, 

Pure  with  a  sense  of  the  passing  of  saints  through  the  wood, 
Cool  for  the  dutiful  weighing  of  ill  with  good  ;  — 

O  braided  dusks  of  the  oak  and  woven  shades  of  the  vine, 
While  the  riotous  noon-day  sun  of  the  June-day  long  did  shine 
Ye  held  me  fast  in  your  heart  and  I  held  you  fast  in  mine ; 
But  now  when  the  noon  is  no  more,  and  riot  is  rest, 
And  the  sun  is  a-wait  at  the  ponderous  gate  of  the  West, 
And  the  slant  yellow  beam  down  the  wood-aisle  doth  seem 
Like  a  lane  into  heaven  that  leads  from  a  dream,  — 
Ay,  now,  when  my  soul  all  day  hath  drunken  the  soul  of  the  oak 
And  my  heart  is  at  ease  from  men,  and  the  wearisome  sound 
of  the  stroke 

1  From  "  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier."     Copyright,  1884  and  1891,  by  Mary  D. 
Lanier,  and  published  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.    By  kind  permission  of  Mrs. 
Lanier  and  the  publishers. 

2  "  In  Glynn  County,  Georgia,  near  Brunswick  "  (Weber). 


410  SIDNEY  LANIER 

Of  the  scythe  of  time  and  the  trowel  of  trade  is  low, 

And  belief  overmasters  doubt,  and  I  know  that  I  know, 

And  my  spirit  is  grown  to  a  lordly  great  compass  within, 

That  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of  the  marshes  of 

Glynn 
Will  work  me  no  fear  like  the  fear  they  have  wrought  me  of 

yore 
When  length  was  fatigue,  and  when  breadth  was  but  bitterness 

sore, 

And  when  terror  and  shrinking  and  dreary  unnamable  pain 
Drew  over  me  out  of  the  merciless  miles  of  the  plain, — 

Oh,  now,  unafraid,  I  am  fain  to  face 

The  vast  sweet  visage  of  space. 

To  the  edge  of  the  wood  I  am  drawn,  I  am  drawn, 

Where  the  gray  beach  glimmering  runs,  as  a  belt  of  the  dawn, 
For  a  mete  and  a  mark 
To  the  forest-dark :  — 
So: 

Affable  live-oak,  leaning  low,  — 

Thus  —  with  your  favor  —  soft,  with  a  reverent  hand, 

(Not  lightly  touching  your  person,  Lord  of  the  land  !) 

Bending  your  beauty  aside,  with  a  step  I  stand 

On  the  firm-packed  sancf, 
Free 

By  a  world  of  marsh  that  borders  a  world  of  sea. 

Sinuous   southward   and    sinuous    northward   the   shimmering 
band 

Of  the  sand-beach  fastens  the  fringe  of  the  marsh  to  the  folds  of 
the  land. 

Inward  and  outward  to  northward  and  southward   the  beach- 
lines  linger  and  curl 

As  a  silver-wrought  garment  that  clings  to  and  follows  the  firm 
sweet  limbs  of  a  girl. 

Vanishing,  swerving,  evermore  curving  again  into  sight, 

Softly  the  sand-beach  wavers  away  to  a  dim  gray  looping  of 
light. 


THE  MARSHES   OF  GLYNN  411 

And  what  if   behind    me  to  westward  the  wall   of  the   woods 

stands  high  ? 
The  world  lies  east :  how  ample,  the  marsh  and  the  sea  and  the 

sky! 
A  league  and  a  league  of  marsh-grass,  waist-high,  broad  in  the 

blade, 
Green,  and  all  of  a  height,  and    unflecked  with   a   light  or  a 

shade, 

Stretch  leisurely  off,  in  a  pleasant  plain, 
To  the  terminal  blue  of  the  main. 

Oh,  what  is  abroad  in  the  marsh  and  the  terminal  sea  ? 
Somehow  my  soul  seems  suddenly  free 
From  the  weighing  of  fate  and  the  sad  discussion  of  sin, 
By  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of  the  marshes  of 
Glynn. 

Ye  marshes,  how  candid  and  simple  and  nothing-withholding 

and  free 
Ye  publish  yourselves  to  the  sky  and  offer  yourselves  to  the 

sea ! 

Tolerant  plains,  that  suffer  the  sea  and  the  rains  and  the  sun, 
Ye  spread  and  span  like  the  catholic  man  who  hath  mightily 

won 

God  out  of  knowledge  and  good  out  of  infinite  pain 
And  sight  out  of  blindness  and  purity  out  of  a  stain. 

As  the  marsh-hen  secretly  builds  on  the  watery  sod, 

Behold  I  will  build  me  a  nest  on  the  greatness  of  God : 

I  will  fly  in  the  greatness  of  God  as  the  marsh-hen  flies 

In  the  freedom  that  fills  all  the  space  'twixt  the  marsh  and  the 

skies : 

By  so  many  roots  as  the  marsh-grass  sends  in  the  sod 
I  will  heartily  lay  me  a-hold  on  the  greatness  of  God : 
Oh,  like  to  the  greatness  of  God  is  the  greatness  within 
The  range  of  the  marshes,  the  liberal  marshes  of  Glynn. 


412  SIDNEY  LAN1ER 

And  the  sea  lends  large,  as  the  marsh :  lo,  out  of  his  plenty  the 

sea 

Pours  fast :  full  soon  the  time  of  the  flood-tide  must  be : 
Look  how  the  grace  of  the  sea  doth  go 
About  and  about  through  the  intricate  channels  that  flow 
Here  and  there, 

Everywhere, 

Till  his  waters  have  flooded  the  uttermost  creeks  and  the  low- 
lying  lanes, 

And  the  marsh  is  meshed  with  a  million  veins, 
That  like  as  with  rosy  and  silvery  essences  flow 
In  the  rose-and-silver  evening  glow. 

Farewell,  my  lord  Sun ! 

The  creeks  overflow  :  a  thousand  rivulets  run 
'Twixt  the  roots  of  the  sod  ;  the  blades  of  the  marsh-grass  stir ; 
Passeth  a  hurrying  sound  of  wings  that  westward  whir ; 
Passeth,  and  all  is  still ;  and  the  currents  cease  to  run  ; 
And  the  sea  and  the  marsh  are  one. 


How  still  the  plains  of  the  waters  be ! 

The  tide  is  in  his  ecstasy. 

The  tide  is  at  his  highest  height : 

And  it  is  night. 

And  now  from  the  Vast  of  the  Lord  will  the  waters  of  sleep 
Roll  in  on  the  souls  of  men, 
But  who  will  reveal  to  our  waking  ken 
The  forms  that  swim  and  the  shapes  that  creep 

Under  the  waters  of  sleep  ? 
And  I  would  I  could  know  what  swimmeth  below  when  the  tide 

comes  in 
On  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  the  marvellous  marshes  of 

Glynn.1 

BALTIMORE,  1878. 

1  The  first  of  six  proposed  hymns  on  the  subject  of  these  marshes.  Only  four 
were  completed.  This  poem  was  first  published  in  "  The  Masque  of  the  Poets  " 
(1879). 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LAN1ERS  CORRESPONDENCE      413 

EXTRACTS   FROM   LANIER'S  CORRESPONDENCE  * 

[FROM  "LETTERS  OF  SIDNEY  LANIER."     1899.] 

I  RETURNED  from  Baltimore  late  on  Saturday.  Mr.  Gilman, 
President  of  Johns  Hopkins  University,  received  me  with  great 
cordiality.  I  took  tea  with  him  on  Thursday,  and  he  devoted 
his  entire  evening  to  discussing  with  me  some  available  method 
of  connecting  me  with  the  University  officially.  The  main  diffi 
culty  was  in  adjusting  the  special  work  which  I  wish  to  do  to 
the  existing  scheme  of  the  institution.  I  found  that  Mr.  Gilman 
was  familiar  with  all  my  poems,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had 
thought  of  inviting  me  to  a  position  in  the  University  last  winter, 
but  did  not  know  whether  I  had  ever  pursued  any  special  studies. 
He  had  been  greatly  attracted  by  the  Cantata,  and  its  defence. 
It  was  finally  agreed  that  a  proposition  should  be  made  to  the 
Trustees  to  create  for  me  a  sort  of  nondescript  chair  of  "  Poetry 
and  Music,"  giving  me  leave  to  shape  my  lectures  into  any  mould 
I  desired.  He  is  to  choose  whatever  time  may  seem  suitable  to 
him,  in  which  to  broach  the  project,  and  will  then  write  me  the 
result.  I  have  no  doubt  of  his  sincere  desire  for  the  favorable 
consummation  of  the  business ;  and  inasmuch  as  the  most  happy 
relations  have  heretofore  existed  between  him  and  the  Trustees, 
it  would  seem  that  the  prospect  is  good.2 

NEW  YORK,  August  15,  1870. 

Ah,  how  they  have  belied  Wagner!  I  heard  Theodore 
Thomas'  orchestra  play  his  overture  to  "  Tannhauser."  The 
"  Music  of  the  Future  "  is  surely  thy  music  and  my  music.  Each 
harmony  was  a  chorus  of  pure  aspirations.  The  sequences 
flowed  along,  one  after  another,  as  if  all  the  great  and  noble 
deeds  of  time  had  formed  a  procession  and  marched  in  review 

1  Copyright,  1899,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.    By  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Lanier 
and  the  publishers. 

2  From  the  letter  to  Mr.  Gibson  Peacock  (a  Philadelphia  editor  very  friendly  to 
Lanier),  dated  West  Chester,  Pennsylvania,  October  4,  1876.    The  appointment 
discussed  was  not  made  until  three  years  later. 


414 


SIDNEY  LANIER 


before  one's  ears,  instead  of  one's  eyes.  These  "  great  and  noble 
deeds  "  were  not  deeds  of  war  and  statesmanship,  but  majestic 
victories  of  inner  struggles  of  a  man.  This  unbroken  march  of 
beautiful-bodied  Triumphs  irresistibly  invites  the  soul  of  a  man 
to  create  other  processions  like  it.  I  would  I  might  lead  a  so 
magnificent  file  of  glories  into  heaven.1 

NEW  YORK,  1871. 

And  to-night  I  come  out  of  what  might  have  been  heaven.  .  .  . 

'Twas  opening  night  of  Theo.  Thomas'  orchestra,  at  Cen 
tral  Park  Garden,  and.  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  go 
and  bathe  in  the  sweet  amber  seas  of  the  music  of  this  fine 
orchestra,  and  so  I  went,  and  tugged  me  through  a  vast  crowd, 
and,  after  standing  some  while,  found  a  seat,  and  the  baton 
tapped  and  waved,  and  I  plunged  into  the  sea,  and  lay  and 
floated.  Ah  !  the  dear  flutes  and  oboes  and  horns  drifted  me 
hither  and  thither,  and  the  great  violins  and  small  violins  swayed 
me  upon  waves,  and  overflowed  me  with  strong  lavations,  and 
sprinkled  glistening  foam  in  my  face,  and  in  among  the  clarinetti, 
as  among  waving  water-lilies  with  flexile  stems,  I  pushed  my  easy 
way,  and  so,  even  lying  in  the  music-  waters,  I  floated  and  flowed, 
my  soul  utterly  bent  and  prostrate.  .  .  .2 

33  DENMEAD  STREET,  BALTIMORE,  MD., 
February  j,  i8j8. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  3  I  was  sorry  to  miss  you  and  Mrs. 
Taylor  when  I  called  on  Monday.  My  cold  had  taken  such 
possession  of  me  on  Sunday  evening  that  I  found  it  prudent  to 
keep  my  room.  I  delivered  your  books  to  the  servant.  I  read 
through  the  three  volumes  on  Sunday  :  and  upon  a  sober  com 
parison  I  think  Walt  Whitman's  "  Leaves  of  Grass  "  worth  at 
least  a  million  of  "Among  My  Books  "4  and  "  Atlanta  in  Caly- 
don."5  In  the  two  latter  I  could  not  find  anything  which  has" 
not  been  much  better  said  before  ;  but  "  Leaves  of  Grass  "  was 


i  From  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Lanier.  2  /^</.  3  TO  Bayard  Taylor. 

4  James  Russell  Lowell's  well-known  critical  essays. 
6  Swinburne's  lyrical  drama  is  "  Atalanta  in  Calydon." 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LAN1ERS   CORRESPONDENCE      415 

a  real  refreshment  to  me  —  like  rude  salt  spray  in  your  face  — 
in  spite  of  its  enormous  fundamental  error  that  a  thing  is  good 
because  it  is  natural,  and  in  spite  of  the  world-wide  difference 
between  my  own  conceptions  of  art  and  its  author's. 

I  did  not  find  a  fitting  moment  to  mention  to  you  a  matter  in 
which  I  am  much  interested.  I  have  an  unconquerable  longing 
to  stop  all  work  for  a  few  months  except  the  study  of  Botany, 
French  and  German,  and  the  completion  of  a  long  poem  which 
I  have  been  meditating.  In  order  to  do  this  I  hoped  it  might 
be  possible  to  utilize  a  tract  of  timber  land  containing  about  a 
thousand  acres  which  I  own  in  Georgia.  I  have  somewhere 
heard  that  there  was  an  association,  or  institution  of  some  sort, 
in  New  York,  for  helping  literary  people  ;  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  such  a  corporation  might  take  my  lands  in  pledge  for  a 
loan  of  five  or  six  hundred  dollars.  I  should  want  it  for  twelve 
months.  The  lands  lie  immediately  on  a  railroad  which  runs  to 
Savannah,  and  whose  main  business  is  the  transportation  of 
lumber  and  timber  to  that  port.  They  are  in  a  portion  of  the 
state  which  is  now  attracting  much  attention  from  the  North 
Carolina  turpentine-distillers  and  lumbermen,  and  which  has 
recently  developed  great  capacities  for  sheep-raising.  They  are 
also  valuable  for  agricultural  purposes,  after  all  the  timber  is 
cut  off. 

Tell  me  if  any  such  institution  exists.  I  asked  Mr.  Bryant1 
about  it  while  in  New  York ;  he  did  not  know  of  it  at  all.  He 
added  that  if  he  were  now  as  prosperous  as  he  was  five  or  six 
years  ago  he  would  have  offered  to  advance  the  money  himself 
on  the  lands :  which  was  a  very  kindly  thought. 

Don't  give  yourself  the  least  concern  about  this.  Of  course 
it  isn't  at  all  probable  that  any  such  association  exists  if  Mr. 
Bryant  does  not  know  of  it ;  and  I  don't  suppose  I  would  men 
tion  it  to  you  at  all  except  for  the  anxiety  with  which  I  long  to 
draw  my  breath  after  a  hard  fight,  and  to  get  the  ends  of  my 
thoughts  together  —  as  Carlyle  says. 

I  hope  Mrs.  Taylor  is  quite  recovered  from  her  cold.  As  for 
you  —  you  range  over  such  an  enormous  compass  both  of  liter- 
1  The  poet,  William  Cullen  Bryant. 


416  SIDNEY  LANIER 

ary  and  terrestrial  ground  that  I  would  not  be  at  all  surprised 
to  hear  at  any  moment  that  you  were  off  for 

"  The  long  wash  of  Australasian  seas,"  1 

in  order  to  deliver  a  lecture  at  Sydney  upon  Limoges  Enamel, 
thence  to  Capetown  for  the  purpose  of  reading  a  dissertation  on 
the  Elohistic  Division  of  the  Book  of  Genesis,2  thence  home 
by  way  of  Reikiavik  (I  deny  any  obligation  to  spell  this  dread 
ful  word  correctly 3),  where  you  were  to  recite  an  original  poem 
(in  Icelandic)  on  the  Relation  of  Balder 4  to  Pegasus. 

Your  friend, 

SIDNEY  L. 

Bayard  Taylor's  death  slices  a  huge  cantle  out  of  the  world 
for  me.  I  don't  yet  know  it,  at  all;  it  only  seems  that  he  has 
gone  to  some  other  Germany,  a  little  farther  off.  How  strange 
it  all  is :  he  was  such  a  fine  fellow,  one  almost  thinks  he  might 
have  talked  Death  over  and  made  him  forego  his  stroke.  Tell 
me  whatever  you  may  know,  outside  the  newspaper  reports, 
about  his  end.5 

.  .  .  Are  you,  by  the  way,  a  musician  ?  Strange,  that  I 
have  never  before  asked  this  question,  —  when  so  much  of  my 
own  life  consists  of  music.  I  don't  know  that  I've  ever  told 
you,  that  whatever  turn  I  have  for  art,  is  purely  musical ;  poetry 
being,  with  me,  a  mere  tangent  into  which  I  shoot  sometimes.  I 
could  play  passably  on  several  instruments  before  I  could  write 
legibly ;  and  since  then,  the  very  deepest  of  my  life  has  been 

1  From  Tennyson's  "  The  Brook." 

2  Possibly  Lanier  transported  Taylor  to  Capetown  because  thinking  of  the 
so-called  "  higher  criticism  "  of  the  Old  Testament  made  him  think  of  Bishop 
Colenso,  who  brought  the  subject  before  the  English  mind,  and  thinking  of  the 
Bishop  of  Natal  made  him  think  of  Africa  and  of  Capetown  as  a  good  place  to 
suggest  to  send  the  much-travelled  Taylor. 

8  Lanier  seems  to  have  succeeded,  however,  in  spelling  correctly  this  name  of 
the  capital  of  Iceland.  He  was  having  fun  with  Taylor  on  the  score  of  the  latter's 
fondness  for  Teutonic  things  and  his  general  versatility  and  love  of  travel. 

4  Cf.  Matthew  Arnold's  poem  "  Balder  Dead." 

6  From  the  letter  to  Mr.  Gibson  Peacock,  dated  180  St.  Paul  Street,  Baltimore, 
December  21,  1878. 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON  CABLE  417 

filled  with  music,  which  I  have  studied  and  cultivated  far  more 
than  poetry.  I  only  mention  this  in  order  that  you  may  under 
stand  the  delight  your  poetry  gives  me.  It  is  so  rarely  musical, 
so  melodiously  pure  and  silvery  in  flow :  it  occupies  in  poetry 
the  place  of  Mendelssohn  in  music,  or  of  Franz  Abt  or  of  Schu 
bert.  It  is,  in  this  respect,  simply  unique  in  modern  poetry : 
William  Morris 1  comes  nearest  to  it,  but  Morris  lives  too 
closely  within  hearing  of  Tennyson  to  write  unbroken  music  : 
for  Tennyson  (let  me  not  blaspheme  against  the  Gods!)  is  not 
a  musical,  though  in  other  respects  (particularly  in  that  of 
phrase-making)  a  very  wonderful  writer.2 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON   CABLE 

[BORN  in  New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  October  12,  1844,  of  Virginia  descent. 
He  left  school  early  and  was  employed  as  a  clerk,  then  served  in  the  Fourth 
Mississippi  Cavalry  from  1863  to  1865.  After  the  war  he  was  a  surveyor  and 
began  writing  .sketches  of  Louisiana  life  for  New  Orleans  newspapers.  He 
was  connected  with  the  Picayune  until  he  refused,  from  religious  scruples,  to 
attend  and  criticise  a  theatrical  performance.  Then  he  entered  a  cotton 
factor's  office  and  wrote  for  Scribbler's  Magazine.  In  1879  he  adopted  litera 
ture  as  his  exclusive  profession  and  collected  his  stories  in  "  Old  Creole  Days." 
He  published  "The  Grandissimes "  (1880),  "Madame  Delphine"  (1881), 
"Dr.  Sevier  "  (1884),  and  attained  much  popularity  throughout  the  country, 
although  he  was  criticised  in  Louisiana  with  respect  to  the  faithfulness  of  his 
descriptions.  He  took  great  interest  in  the  negro  question,  abandoning  the 
normal  Southern  attitude  toward  the  race,  and  published  "The  Silent  South" 
(1885)  and  "The  Negro  Question"  (1890),  which  alienated  his  native  sec 
tion.  In  1885  he  removed  to  Connecticut  and  in  1886  to  Northampton, 
Massachusetts,  where  he  still  resides.  In  1887  he  founded  the  Home  Culture 
Clubs,  and,  as  lecturer  and  editor,  he  has  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  the 
furtherance  of  philanthropical  causes.  He  published  "  Strange  True  Stories 
of  Louisiana"  in  1889,  and  was  for  some  time  silent  in  his  capacity  of 
novelist.  "John  March,  Southerner"  appeared  in  1894,  and  then  after 
several  years  the  long  famous  author  broke  his  silence  with  "  The  Cavalier  " 
(1901),  a  story  of  the  Civil  War  which  was  widely  read.  His  latest  work  is 

1  The  author,  by  the  time  this  letter  was  written,  of  "  The  Defense  of  Guinevere," 
"The  Life  and  Death  of  Jason,"  and  of  "The  Earthly  Paradise." 

2  From  a  letter  to  Paul  H.  Hayne,  dated  Marietta,  Georgia,  May  26, 1873. 

2E 


41 8  GEORGE    WASHINGTON  CABLE 

"Bylow  Hill"  (1902).  For  criticism,  see  Baskervill's  "Southern  Writers" 
(1898).  See  also  "The  Scenes  of  Cable's  Romances"  by  Lafcadio  Hearn  in 
The  Century,  November,  1883.] 


SOME   CREOLE  CHARACTERS1 
[FROM  "OLD  CREOLE  DAYS."    1883.] 

JUST  adjoining  the  old  Cafe  de  Poesie  on  the  corner,  stood 
the  little  one-story,  yellow-washed  tenement  of  Dr.  Mossy,  with 
its  two  glass  doors  protected  by  batten  shutters,  and  its  low, 
weed-grown  tile  roof  sloping  out  over  the  sidewalk.  You  were 
very  likely  to  find  the  Doctor  in,  for  he  was  a  great  student  and 
rather  negligent  of  his  business  —  as  business.  He  was  a  small, 
sedate,  Creole  gentleman  of  thirty  or  more,  with  a  young-old 
face  and  manner  that  provoked  instant  admiration.  He  would 
receive  you  —  be  you  who  you  may  —  in  a  mild,  candid  manner, 
looking  into  your  face  with  his  deep-blue  eyes,  and  reassuring 
you  with  a  modest,  amiable  smile,  very  sweet  and  rare  on  a 
man's  mouth. 

To  be  frank,  the  Doctor's  little  establishment  was  dusty  and 
disorderly  —  very.  It  was  curious  to  see  the  jars,  and  jars,  and 
jars.  In  them  were  serpents  and  hideous  fishes  and  precious 
specimens  of  many  sorts.  There  were  stuffed  birds  on  broken 
perches;  and  dried  lizards,  and  eels,  and  little  alligators,  and 
old  skulls  with  their  crowns  sawed  off,  and  ten  thousand  odd 
scraps  of  writing-paper  strewn  with  crumbs  of  lonely  lunches, 
and  interspersed  with  long-lost  spatulas  and  rust-eaten  lancets. 

All  New  Orleans,  at  least  all  Creole  New  Orleans,  knew,  and 
yet  did  not  know,  the  dear  little  Doctor.  So  gentle,  so  kind,  so 
skilful,  so  patient,  so  lenient ;  so  careless  of  the  rich  and  so  at 
tentive  to  the  poor ;  a  man,  all  in  all,  such  as,  should  you  once 
love  him,  you  would  love  him  forever.  So  very  learned,  too,  but 
with  apparently  no  idea  of  how  to  show  himself  to  his  social 

l  From  "  Old  Creole  Days."  Copyright,  1879,  1881,  1883,  by  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons.  By  kind  permission  of  the  publishers  and  the  author.  The  extract  forms 
the  opening  of  "  Madame  Delicieuse." 


SOME  CREOLE  CHARACTERS          419 

profit,  —  two  features  much  more  smiled  at  than  respected,  not 
to  say  admired,  by  a  people  remote  from  the  seats  of  learning, 
and  spending  most  of  their  esteem  upon  animal  heroisms  and 
exterior  display. 

"  Alas  !  "  said  his  wealthy  acquaintances,  "  what  a  pity ;  when 
he  might  as  well  be  rich." 

"  Yes,  his  father  has  plenty." 

"  Certainly,  and  gives  it  freely.  But  intends  his  son  shall  see 
none  of  it." 

"  His  son  ?     You  dare  not  so  much  as  mention  him." 

"Well,  well,  how  strange!  But  they  can  never  agree  —  not 
even  upon  their  name.  Is  not  that  droll  ?  —  a  man  named  Gen 
eral  Villivicencio,  and  his  son,  Dr.  Mossy  !  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing ;  it  is  only  that  the  Doctor  drops  the 
de  Villivicencio . ' ' 

"  Drops  the  de  Villivicencio  ?  but  I  think  the  de  Villivicencio 
drops  him,  ho,  ho,  ho,  —  diable  /" 

Next  to  the  residence  of  good  Dr.  Mossy  towered  the  narrow, 
red-brick-front  mansion  of  young  Madame  Delicieuse,  firm 
friend  at  once  and  always  of  those  two  antipodes,  General  Vilii- 
vicencio  and  Dr.  Mossy.  Its  dark,  covered  carriage-way  was 
ever  rumbling,  and,  with  nightfall,  its  drawing-rooms  always 
sent  forth  a  luxurious  light  from  the  lace-curtained  windows  of 
the  second-story  balconies. 

It  was  one  of  the  sights  of  the  Rue  Royale  to  see  by  night  its 
tall,  narrow  outline  reaching  high  up  toward  the  stars,  with  all 
its  windows  aglow. 

The  Madame  had  had  some  tastes  of  human  experience ;  had 
been  betrothed  at  sixteen  (to  a  man  she  did  not  love,  "  being  at 
that  time  a  fool,"  as  she  said)  ;  one  summer  day  at  noon  had 
been  a  bride,  and  at  sundown  —  a  widow.  Accidental  dis 
charge  of  the  tipsy  bridegroom's  own  pistol.  Pass  it  by!  It 
left  but  one  lasting  effect  on  her,  a  special  detestation  of  quarrels 
and  weapons. 

The  little  maidens  whom  poor  parentage  has  doomed  to  sit 
upon  street  door-sills  and  nurse  their  infant  brothers  have  a 
game  of  "  choosing  "  the  beautiful  ladies  who  sweep  by  along 


420  GEORGE    WASHINGTON  CABLE 

the  pavement ;  but  in  Rue  Royale  there  was  no  choosing  ;  every 
little  damsel  must  own  Madame  Delicieuse  or  nobody,  and  as 
that  richly  adorned  and  regal  favorite  of  old  General  Villivicen- 
cio  came  along  they  would  lift  their  big,  bold  eyes  away  up 
to  her  face  and  pour  forth  their  admiration  in  a  universal  — 
"  Ah-h-h-h !  " 

But,  mark  you,  she  was  good  Madame  Delicieuse  as  well  as 
fair  Madame  Delicieuse :  her  principles,  however,  not  con 
structed  in  the  austere  Anglo-Saxon  style,  exactly  (what  need, 
with  the  lattice  of  the  Confessional  not  a  stone 's-throw  off?). 
Her  kind  offices  and  beneficent  schemes  were  almost  as  famous 
as  General  Villivicencio's  splendid  alms ;  if  she  could  at  times 
do  what  the  infantile  Washington  said  he  could  not,  why,  no 
doubt  she  and  her  friends  generally  looked  upon  it  as  a  mere 
question  of  enterprise. 

She  had  charms,  too,  of  intellect  —  albeit  not  such  a  sinner 
against  time  and  place  as  to  be  an  "educated  woman"  — 
charms  that,  even  in  a  plainer  person,  would  have  brought 
down  the  half  of  New  Orleans  upon  one  knee,  with  both  hands 
on  the  left  side.  She  had  the  whole  city  at  her  feet,  and,  with 
the  fine  tact  which  was  the  perfection  of  her  character,  kept  it 
there  contented.  Madame  was,  in  short,  one  of  the  kind  that 
gracefully  wrest  from  society  the  prerogative  of  doing  as  they 
please,  and  had  gone  even  to  such  extravagant  lengths  as  driv 
ing  out  in  the  Americain  faubourg,1  learning  the  English  tongue, 
talking  national  politics,  and  similar  freaks  whereby  she  pro 
voked  the  unbounded  worship  of  her  less  audacious  lady 
friends.  In  the  centre  of  the  cluster  of  Creole  beauties  which 
everywhere  gathered  about  her,  and,  most  of  all,  in  those  in 
comparable  companies  which  assembled  in  her  own  splendid 
drawing-rooms,  she  was  always  queen  lily.  Her  house,  her 
drawing-rooms,  etc. ;  for  the  little  brown  aunt  who  lived  with 
her  was  a  mere  piece  of  curious  furniture. 

There  was  this  notable  charm  about  Madame  Delicieuse,  she 
improved  by  comparison.  She  never  looked  so  grand  as  when, 
hanging  on  General  Villivicencio's  arm  at  some  gorgeous  ball, 
1  The  American  section  of  the  city. 


SO  ME   CREOLE   CHARACTERS  421 

these  two  bore  down  on  you  like  a  royal  barge  lashed  to  a  ship- 
of-the-line.  She  never  looked  so  like  her  sweet  name  as  when 
she  seated  her  prettiest  lady  adorers  close  around  her,  and  got 
them  all  a-laughing. 

Of  the  two  balconies  which  overhung  the  banquette l  on  the 
front  of  the  Delicieuse  house,  one  was  a  small  affair,  and  the 
other  a  deeper  and  broader  one,  from  which  Madame  and  her 
ladies  were  wont  upon  gala  days  to  wave  handkerchiefs  and  cast 
flowers  to  the  friends  in  the  processions.  There  they  gathered 
one  Eighth  of  January 2  morning  to  see  the  military  display.  It  was 
a  bright  blue  day,  and  the  group  that  quite  filled  the  balcony  had 
laid  wrappings  aside,  as  all  flower-buds  are  apt  to  do  on  such 
Creole  January  days,  and  shone  resplendent  in  spring  attire. 

The  sight-seers  passing  below  looked  up  by  hundreds  and 
smiled  at  the  ladies'  eager  twitter,  as,  flirting  in  humming-bird 
fashion  from  one  subject  to  another,  they  laughed  away  the  half- 
hours  waiting  for  the  pageant.  By  and  by  they  fell  a-listening, 
for  Madame  Delicieuse  had  begun  a  narrative  concerning  Dr. 
Mossy.  She  sat  somewhat  above  her  listeners,  her  elbow  on  the 
arm  of  her  chair,  and  her  plump  white  hand  waving  now  and 
then  in  graceful  gesture,  they  silently  attending  with  eyes  full  of 
laughter  and  lips  starting  apart. 

"  Vous  savez"  she  said  (they  conversed  in  French  of  course), 
"  you  know  it  is  now  long  that  Dr.  Mossy  and  his  father  have 
been  in  disaccord.  Indeed,  when  have  they  not  differed  ?  For, 
when  Mossy  was  but  a  little  boy,  his  father  thought  it  hard  that 
he  was  not  a  rowdy.  He  switched  him  once  because  he  would 
not  play  with  his  toy  gun  and  drum.  He  was  not  so  high  when 
his  father  wished  to  send  him  to  Paris  to  enter  the  French  army  ; 
but  he  would  not  go.  We  used  to  play  often  together  on  the 
banquette  —  for  I  am  not  so  very  many  years  younger  than  he, 
no  indeed  —  and,  if  I  wanted  some  fun,  I  had  only  to  pull  his 
hair  and  run  into  the  house ;  he  would  cry,  and  monsieur  papa 
would  come  out  with  his  hand  spread  open  and  " 

Madame  gave  her  hand  a  malicious  little  sweep,  and  joined 
heartily  in  the  laugh  which  followed. 

1  Sidewalk.        2  Jackson  won  the  battle  of  New  Orleans  on  January  8,  1815. 


422  GEORGE    WASHINGTON  CABLE 

"  That  was  when  they  lived  over  the  way.  But  wait !  you 
shall  see  ;  I  have  something.  This  evening  the  General  " 

The  houses  of  Rue  Royale  gave  a  start  and  rattled  their 
windows.  In  the  long,  irregular  line  of  balconies  the  beauty  of 
the  city  rose  up.  Then  the  houses  jumped  again  and  the 
windows  rattled ;  Madame  steps  inside  the  window  and  gives  a 
message  which  the  housemaid  smiles  at  in  receiving.  As  she 
turns  the  houses  shake  again,  and  now  again ;  and  now  there 
comes  .a  distant  strain  of  trumpets,  and  by  and  by  the  drums  and 
bayonets  and  clattering  hoofs,  and  plumes  and  dancing  banners  ; 
far  down  the  long  street  stretch  out  the  shining  ranks  of  gallant 
men,  and  the  fluttering,  over-leaning  swarms  of  ladies  shower 
down  their  sweet  favors  and  wave  their  countless  welcomes. 

In  the  front,  towering  above  his  captains,  rides  General 
Villivicencio,  veteran  of  1814-15,  and,  with  the  gracious  pomp 
of  the  old-time  gentleman,  lifts  his  cocked  hat,  and  bows,  and 
bows. 

Madame  Delicieuse's  balcony  was  a  perfect  maze  of  waving 
kerchiefs.  The  General  looked  up  for  the  woman  of  all  women  : 
she  was  not  there.  But  he  remembered  the  other  balcony,  the 
smaller  one,  and  cast  his  glance  onward  to  it.  There  he  saw 
Madame  and  one  other  person  only.  A  small  blue-eyed,  broad- 
browed,  scholarly-looking  man  whom  the  arch  lady  had  lured 
from  his  pen  by  means  of  a  mock  professional  summons,  and 
who  now  stood  beside  her,  a  smile  of  pleasure  playing  on  his  lips 
and  about  his  eyes. 

"Vitef"*  said  Madame,  as  the  father's  eyes  met  the  son's. 
Dr.  Mossy  lifted  his  arm  and  cast  a  bouquet  of  roses.  A  girl  in 
the  crowd  bounded  forward,  caught  it  in  the  air,  and,  blushing, 
handed  it  to  the  plumed  giant.  He  bowed  low,  first  to  the  girl, 
then  to  the  balcony  above  ;  and  then,  with  a  responsive  smile, 
tossed  up  two  splendid  kisses,  one  to  Madame,  and  one,  it 
seemed 

"  For  what  was  that  cheer  ?  " 

"  Why,  did  you  not  see  ?  General  Villivicencio  cast  a  kiss  to 
his  son." 

1  Quickly,  or  "  hurry  up." 


MR.  BENJAMIN  RAM  AND  HfS    WONDERFUL  FIDDLE    423 


JOEL   CHANDLER   HARRIS 

[BORN  at  Eatonton,  Putnam  County,  Georgia,  December  8,  1848.  He  was 
employed  at  twelve  by  the  publisher  of  a  country  newspaper  and  learned  the 
printer's  trade,  contributing  also,  like  Franklin,  "  Artemus  Ward,"  and  other 
American  authors,  to  the  paper  he  printed.  After  the  war  he  worked  for 
editors  in  Macon,  Georgia,  and  in  New  Orleans,1  then  he  edited  a  paper  in 
Forsyth,  Georgia,  and  from  1871  to  1876,  having  attracted  the  notice  of  William 
Tappan  Thompson  (q.v.},  ne  was  engaged  on  the  staff  of  the  Savannah  Daily 
News.  In  1876  he  became  an  editor  on  the  Atlanta  Constitution  and  held 
his  position  for  twenty-five  years.  He  wrote  for  this  paper  folk-lore  sketches 
which  were  gathered  in  "Uncle  Remus:  his  Songs  and  Sayings"  (1880), 
which  gave  its  author  at  once  a  national  reputation.  He  has  since  published 
many  volumes  dealing  with  negro  folk-lore  and  with  the  life  of  Georgia 
country  people,  such  as  "Nights  with  Uncle  Remus"  (1883),  "Mingo" 
(1884),  "  Free  Joe  "  (1887),  "  Little  Mr.  Thimble  Finger"  (1894),  "Tales  of 
the  Home  Folks  in  Peace  and  War"  (1898).  In  1890  Mr.  Harris  edited  an 
elaborate  memorial  volume  to  that  much  lamented  orator,  Henry  W.  Grady 
(£.#.).  He  has  recently  retired  from  his  editorial  work  and  devoted  himself 
to  literature.  For  criticism,  see  Baskervill's  "Southern  Writers"  (1898). 
It  may  be  worth  while  to  note  that  in  this  essay  pur  attention  is  called  to  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Harris's  love  for  the  great  classics  of  our  literature  is  sincere  and 
deep.  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield"  in  particular  has  been  a  delight  to  him 
since  his  earliest  years.  See  also  his  short  but  interesting  "Literary  Auto 
biography  "  in  Vol.  XXXVII  of  Lippincotf  s  Magazine.'} 


MR.    BENJAMIN  RAM  AND  HIS  WONDERFUL   FIDDLE2 

[FROM  "NIGHTS  WITH  UNCLE  REMUS."     ELEVENTH   EDITION,  1889.] 

"  I  'SPECK  you  done  year  tell  er  ole  man  Benjermtm  Ram," 
said  Uncle  Remus,  with  a  great  affectation  of  indifference,  after 
a  pause. 

1  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  in  Davidson's  "  Living  Writers  of  the  South" 
(1869)  Mr.  Harris  figures  chiefly  as  a  poet.     Some  of  his  latest  dialect  work  has 
been  in  rhyme. 

2  Copyright,   1881,  by  the   Century  Company,  and,   1883,   by  Joel  Chandler 
Harris.     By  kind  permission  of  the  author  and  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


424  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

"  Old  man  who  ?  "  asked  the  little  boy. 

"  Old  man  Benjermun  Ram.  I  'speck  you  done  year  tell  er 
him  too  long  'go  ter  talk  'bout." 

"  Why,  no,  I  haven't,  Uncle  Remus ! "  exclaimed  the  little 
boy,  protesting  and  laughing.  "  He  must  have  been  a  mighty 
funny  old  man." 

"  Dat's  ez  may  be,"  responded  Uncle  Remus,  sententiously. 
"  Fun  deze  days  wouldn't  er  counted  fer  fun  in  dem  days ;  en 
many's  de  time  w'at  I  see  folks  laughin',"  continued  the  old 
man,  with  such  withering  sarcasm  that  the  little  boy  immediately 
became  serious,  —  "many's  de  time  w'at  I  sees  um  laughin'  en 
laughin',  w'en  I  lay  dey  ain't  kin  tell  w'at  deyer  laughin'  at 
deyse'f.  En  'tain't  der  laughin'  w'at  pesters  me,  nudder,"  — 
relenting  a  little,  —  "  hit's  dish  yer  ev'lastin'  snickle  en  giggle, 
giggle  en  snickle." 

Having  thus  mapped  out,  in  a  dim  and  uncertain  way,  what 
older  people  than  the  little  boy  might  have  been  excused  for 
accepting  as  a  sort  of  moral  basis,  Uncle  Remus  proceeded : 

_"  Dish  yer  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram,  w'ich  he  done  come  up  inter 
my  min',  wus  one  er  deze  yer  ole-timers.  Dey  tells  me  dat  he 
'uz  a  fiddler  fum  away  back  yander  —  one  er  dem  ar  kinder 
fiddlers  w'at  can't  git  de  chune  down  fine  'less  dey  pats  der  foot. 
He  stay  all  by  he  own-alone  se'f  'way  out  in  de  middle  un  a 
big  new-groun',  en  he  sech  a  handy  man  fer  ter  have  at  a  frolic 
dat  de  yuther  creeturs  like  'im  mighty  well,  en  w'en  dey  tuck  a 
notion  fer  ter  shake  der  foot,  w'ich  de  notion  tuck'n'  struck  um 
eve'y  once  in  a  w'ile,  nuthin'  'ud  do  but  dey  mus'  sen'  fer  ole 
man  Benjermun  Ram  en  he  fiddle ;  en  dey  do  say,"  continued 
Uncle  Remus,  closing  his  eyes  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy,  "  dat  w'en 
he  squar'  hisse'f  back  in  a  cheer,  en  git  in  a  weavin'  way,  he 
kin  des  snatch  dem  ole-time  chunes  fum  who  lay  de  rail.1  En 
den,  w'en  de  frolic  wuz  done,  dey'd  all  fling  in,  dem  yuther 
creeturs  would,  en  fill  up  a  bag  er  peas  fer  ole  Mr.  Benjermun 
Ram  fer  ter  kyar  home  wid  'im. 

"  One  time,  des  'bout  Christmas,  Miss  Meadows  en  Miss 
Motts  en  de  gals,  dey  up'  n'  say  dat  dey'd  sorter  gin  a  blow-out, 

1  That  is,  from  the  foundation,  or  beginning  (author's  note). 


MR.  BENJAMIN  RAM  AND  HIS    WONDERFUL  FIDDLE    425 

en  dey  got  wud  ter  ole  man  Benjermun  Ram  w'ich  dey  'speckted 
'im  fer  ter  be  on  han'.  Wen  de  time  done  come  fer  Mr.  Ben 
jermun  Ram  fer  ter  start,  de  win'  blow  cole  en  de  cloud  'gun 
ter  spread  out  'cross  de  elements  —  but  no  marter  fer  dat ;  ole 
man  Benjermun  Ram  tuck  down  he  walkin'-cane,  he  did,  en  tie 
up  de  fiddle  in  a  bag,  en  sot  out  fer  Miss  Meadows.  He  thunk 
he  know  de  way,  but  hit  keep  on  gittin'  col'er,  en  col'er,  en  mo' 
cloudy,  twel  bimeby,  fus'  news  you  know,  ole  Mr.  Benjermun 
Ram  done  lose  de  way.  Ef  he'd  er  kep'  on  down  de  big  road 
fum  de  start,  it  moughter  bin  diffunt,  but  he  tuck  a  nigh-cut,  en 
he  aint  git  fur  'fo'  he  done  los'  sho'  'nuff.  He  go  dis  away,  en 
he  go  dat  away,  en  he  go  de  yuther  way,  yit  all  de  same  he  wus 
done  los'.  Some  folks  would  er  sot  right  flat  down  whar  dey 
wus  en  study  out  de  way,  but  ole  man  Benjermun  Ram  ain't  got 
wrinkle  on  he  hawn  fer  nothin',  kaze  he  done  got  de  name  er 
ole  Billy  Hardhead  long  'fo'  dat.  Den  a'g'in,  some  folks  would 
er  stop  right  still  in  der  tracks  en  holler  en  bawl  fer  ter  see  ef 
dey  can't  roust  up  some  er  de  neighbors,  but  ole  Mr.  Benjermun 
Ram,  he  des  stick  he  jowl  in  de  win',  he  did,  en  he  march  right 
on  des  'zackly  like  he  know  he  ain't  gwine  de  wrong  way.  He 
keep  on,  but  'twan't  long  'fo'  he  'gun  ter  feel  right  lonesome, 
mo'  speshually  w'en  hit  come  up  in  he  min'  how  Miss  Meadows 
en  de  gals  en  all  de  comp'ny  be  bleedz  ter  do  de  bes'  dey  kin 
bidout  any  fiddlin' ;  en  hit  kinder  make  he  marrer  git  cole  w'en 
he  study  'bout  how  he  gotter  sleep  out  dar  in  de  woods  by  his- 
se'f. 

"Yit,  all  de  same,  he  keep  on  twel  de  dark  'gun  ter  drap 
down,  en  den  he  keep  on  still,  en  bimeby  he  come  ter  a  little 
rise  whar  dey  wuz  a  clay-gall.1  W'en  he  git  dar  he  stop  en  look 
'roun',  he  did,  en  'way  off  down  in  de  holler,  dar  he  see  a  light 
shinin',  en  w'en  he  see  dis,  ole  man  Benjermun  Ram  tuck  he 
foot  in  he  han',  en  make  he  way  todes  it  des  lak  it  de  ve'y  place 
w'at  he  bin  huntin'.  'Twan't  long  'fo'  he  come  ter  de  house 
whar  de  light  is,  en,  bless  you  soul,  he  don't  make  no  bones  er 
knockin'.  Den  somebody  holler  out : 

'"Who  dat?' 

1  Apparently  a  bare  patch  that  has  resisted  erosion. 


426  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

"  '  I'm  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram,  en  I  done  lose  de  way,  en  I  come 
fer  ter  ax  you  ef  you  can't  take  me  in  fer  de  night,'  sezee. 

"  In  common,"  continued  Uncle  Remus,  "  ole  Mr.  Benjermun 
Ram  wuz  a  mighty  rough-en-spoken  somebody,  but  you  better 
b'leeve  he  talk  monst'us  perlite  dis  time. 

"  Den  some  un  on  t'er  side  er  de  do'  ax  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram 
fer  ter  walk  right  in,  en  wid  dat  he  open  de  do'  en  walk  in,  en 
make  a  bow  like  fiddlin'  folks  does  w'en  dey  goes  in  comp'ny ; 
but  he  aint  no  sooner  made  he  bow  en  look  'roun'  twel  he  'gun 
ter  shake  en  shiver  lak  he  done  bin  stricken  wid  de  swamp- 
ager,  kaze,  settin'  right  dar  'fo'  de  fier  wuz  ole  Brer  Wolf,  wid 
his  toofies  showin'  up  all  w'ite  en  shiny  like  dey  wuz  bran  new. 
Ef  ole  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram  ain't  bin  so  ole  en  stiff  I  boun'  you 
he'd  er  broke  en  run,  but  'mos'  'fo'  he  had  time  fer  ter  study 
'bout  gittin'  'way,  ole  Brer  Wolf  done  bin  jump  up  en  shet  de 
do'  en  fassen'  'er  wid  a  great  big  chain.  Ole  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram 
he  know  he  in  fer't,  en  he  tuck'n  put  on  a  bol'  face  ez  he  kin, 
but  he  des  nat'ally  hone l  fer  ter  be  los'  in  de  woods  some  mo'. 
Den  he  make  'n'er  low  bow,  en  he  hope  Brer  Wolf  and  all  his 
folks  is  well,  en  den  he  say,  sezee,  dat  he  des  drap  in  fer  ter 
worn  hisse'f,  en  'quire  uv  de  way  ter  Miss  Meadows',  en  ef  Brer 
Wolf  be  so  good  ez  ter  set  'im  in  de  road  ag'in,  he  be  off  putty 
soon  en  be  much  'blige  in  de  bargains. 

"  'Tooby  sho',  Mr.  Ram,'  sez  Brer  Wolf,  sezee,  w'iles  he  lick 
he  chops  en  grin ;  *  des  put  yo'  walkin'-cane  in  de  cornder  over 
dar,  en  set  yo'  bag  down  on  de  flo',  en  make  yo'se'f  at  home,' 
sezee.  'We  ain't  got  much,'  sezee,  'but  w'at  we  is  got  is  yone 
w'iles  you  stays,  en  I  boun'  we'll  take  good  keer  un  you,'  sezee ; 
en  wid  dat  Brer  Wolf  laugh  en  show  his  toofies  so  bad  dat  ole 
man  Benjermun  Ram  come  mighty  nigh  havin'  'n'er  ager. 

"Den  Brer  Wolf  tuck'n  flung  'n'er  lighter 'd-knot  on  de  fier, 
en  den  he  slip  inter  de  back  room,  en  present'y,  w'iles  ole  Mr. 
Benjermun  Ram  wuz  settin'  dar  shakin'  in  he  shoes,  he  year 
Brer  Wolf  whispun'  ter  he  ole  'oman  : 

"  '  Ole  'oman  !  ole  'oman  !    Fling  'way  yo'  smoke  meat  —  fresh 

1  To  pine  or  long  for  anything.  This  is  a  good  old  English  word  which  has 
been  retained  in  the  plantation  vocabulary  (author's  note). 


MR.  BENJAMIN  RAM  AND  HIS    WONDERFUL  FIDDLE    427 

meat  fer  supper  !  Fling  'way  yo'  smoke  meat  —  fresh  meat  fer 
supper ! ' 

"  Den  ole  Miss  Wolf,  she  talk  out  loud,  so  Mr.  Benjermun 
Ram  kin  year : 

"  '  Tooby  sho'  I'll  fix  'im  some  supper.  We  er  'way  off  yer  in 
de  woods,  so  fur  fum  comp'ny  dat  goodness  knows  I'm  mighty 
glad  ter  see  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram.' 

"  Den  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram  year  ole  Miss  Wolf  whettin'  'er 
knife  on  a  rock  —  shirrah  !  shirrah  !  shirrah  !  —  en  ev'y  time  he 
year  de  knife  say  shirrah !  he  know  he  dat  much  nigher  de 
dinner-pot.  He  know  he  can't  git  'way,  en  w'iles  he  settin'  dar 
studyin',  hit  'come  'cross  he  min'  dat  he  des  mought  ez  well  play 
one  mo'  chune  on  he  fiddle  'fo'  de  wuss  come  ter  de  wuss.  Wid 
dat  he  ontie  de  bag  en  take  out  de  fiddle,  en  'gun  ter  chune  'er 
up  — plink,  plank,  plunk,  plink  !  plunk,  plank,  plink,  plunk  !  " 

Uncle  Remus's  imitation  of  the  tuning  of  a%  fiddle  was  mar 
vellous  enough  to  produce  a  startling  effect  upon  a  much  less  en 
thusiastic  listener  than  the  little  boy.  It  was  given  in  perfect 
good  faith,  but  the  serious  expression  on  the  old  man's  face  was 
so  irresistibly  comic  that  the  child  laughed  until  the  tears  ran 
down  his  face.  Uncle  Remus  very  properly  accepted  this  as  a 
tribute  to  his  wonderful  resources  as  a  story-teller,  and  continued, 
in  great  good-humor : 

"  W'en  ole  Miss  WTolf  year  dat  kinder  fuss,  co'se  she  dunner 
w'at  is  it,  en  she  drap  'er  knife  en  lissen.  Ole  Mr.  Benjermun 
Ram  ain't  know  dis,  en  he  keep  on  chunin'  up  — plank,  plink, 
plunk,  plank  f  Den  ole  Miss  Wolf,  she  tuck'n'  hunch  Brer  Wolf 
wid'er  elbow,  en  she  say,  sez  she : 

"  '  Hey,  ole  man  !  w'at  dat  ? ' 

"  Den  bofe  un  um  cock  up  der  years  en  lissen,  en  des  'bout 
dat  time,  ole  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram  he  sling  de  butt  er  de  fiddle 
up  und'  he  chin,  en  struck  up  one  er  dem  ole-time  chunes." 

"  Well,  what  tune  was  it,  Uncle  Remus  ?  "  the  little  boy  asked, 
with  some  display  of  impatience. 

"  Ef  I  ain't  done  gone  en  fergit  dat  chune  off'n  my  min','' 
continued  Uncle  Remus;  "  hit  sorter  went  like  dat  ar  song 
'bout  *  Sheep  shell  co'n  wid  de  rattle  er  his  ho'n ; '  en  yit  hit 


428  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

mout  er  been  dat  ar  yuther  one  'bout  c  Roll  de  key,  ladies,  roll 
dem  keys.'  Brer  Wolf  en  ole  Miss  Wolf,  dey  lissen  en  lissen, 
en  de  mo'  w'at  dey  lissen  de  skeerder  dey  git,  twel  bimeby  dey 
tuck  ter  der  heels  en  make  a  break  fer  de  swamp  at  de  back  er 
de  house  des  lak  de  patter-rollers l  wuz  atter  um. 

"  W'en  ole  man  Benjermun  Ram  sorter  let  up  wid  he  fiddlin', 
he  don't  see  no  Brer  Wolf,  en  he  don't  year  no  ole  Miss  Wolf. 
Den  he  look  in  de  back  room  ;  no  Wolf  dar.  Den  he  look  in  de 
back  po'ch;  no  Wolf  dar.  Den  he  look  in  de  closet  en  de 
cubberd ;  no  Wolf  aint  dar  yit.  Den  ole  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram, 
he  tuck  'n'  shot  all  de  do's  en  lock  um,  en  he  s'arch,  'roun'  en 
he  fine  some  peas  en  fodder  in  de  lof,  w'ich  he  et  um  fer  he 
supper,  en  den  he  lie  down  front  er  de  fier  en  sleep  soun'  ez  a  log. 

"  Nex'  mawnin'  he  'uz  up  en  stirrin'-  'monst'us  soon,  en  he 
put  out  fum  dar,  en  he  fine  de  way  ter  Miss  Meadows'  time  'nuff 
fer  ter  play  at  de  frolic.  W'en  he  git  dar,  Miss  Meadows  en  de 
gals,  dey  run  ter  de  gate  fer  ter  meet  'im,  en  dis  un  tuck  he  hat, 
en  dat  un  tuck  he  cane,  en  t'er  'n  tuck  he  fiddle,  en  den  dey  up 
'n'  say : 

" '  Law,  Mr.  Ram !  whar  de  name  er  goodness  is  you  bin  ? 
We  so  glad  you  come.  Stir  'roun'  yer,  folks,  en  git  Mr.  Ram  a 
cup  er  hot  coffee.' 

"  Dey  make  a  mighty  big  ter-do  'bout  Mr.  Benjermun  Ram, 
Miss  Meadows  en  Miss  Motts  en  de  gals  did,  but  'twix'  you  en 
me  en  de  bedpos',  honey,  dey'd  er  had  der  frolic  wh'er  de  ole  chap 
'uz  dar  er  not,  kaze  de  gals  done  made  'rangements  wid  Brer 
Rabbit  fer  ter  pat  fer  um,  en  in  dem  days  Brer  Rabbit  wuz  a 
patter,  mon.  He  mos'  sho'ly  wuz." 

BROTHER   BILLY  GOAT   EATS   HIS   DINNER2 
[FROM  "UNCLE  REMUS  AND  HIS  FRIENDS."    1897.] 

ONE  Saturday  afternoon,  Uncle  Remus  was  sitting  in  the  door 
of  his  cabin  enjoying  the  sunshine,  while  the  little  boy  was  mend- 

1  "  Patrollers  "  (patrolmen)  is  probably  the  word  Uncle  Remus  had  in  mind. 

2  Copyright,  1892,  by  Joel  Chandler  Harris.    By  kind  permission  of  the  author 
and  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


BROTHER  BILLY   GOAT  EATS  HIS  DINNER         429 

ing,  or  trying  to  mend,  a  small  wagon  with  which  he  had  been 
playing.  It  was  a  half  holiday  on  the  plantation,  and  there  were 
several  groups  of  negroes  loitering  about  the  quarters.  Ordi 
narily  the  little  boy  would  have  been  interested  in  their  songs 
or  in  the  drolleries  that  were  passing  from  lip  to  lip,  and  from 
group  to  group ;  but  now  he  was  too  busy  with  his  broken  wagon. 
The  old  man  watched  the  child  through  half-closed  eyes,  and 
with  a  smile  that  was  grim  only  in  appearance.  Finally,  seeing 
that  the  little  chap  was  growing  impatient,  Uncle  Remus  cried 
out  with  some  asperity : 

"  What  you  doin'  longer  dat  waggin  ?  Gi'  me  here  !  Fus'  news 
you  know,  you  won't  have  no  waggin." 

The  little  boy  carried  it  to  the  old  man  very  readily. 

"  Sump'n  the  matter  wid  de  runnin'  gear,"  Uncle  Remus 
remarked.  "I  dunner.how  come  it  got  any  runnin' gear.  If 
you  had  a  i'on  waggin,  it  wouldn't  las'  you  twel  termorrer 
night." 

Just  at  that  moment,  Big  Sam  happened  to  get  into  an  angry 
dispute  with  Becky's  Bill.  Big  Sam  was  almost  a  giant,  but 
Becky's  Bill  had  a  free  mind  and  a  loud  tongue,  and  he  made  a 
great  deal  more  noise  than  Sam.  This  seemed  to  irritate  Uncle 
Remus. 

"  Hush  up,  you  triflin'  vilyun  ! "  he  said.  "  You  talk  bigger 
dan  de  Billy  Goat  did." 

The  other  negroes  laughed  at  this,  and  Becky's  Bill  soon 
dropped  the  quarrel,  which  was  not  hard  to  do,  seeing  that  Big 
Sam  was  saying  very  little.  The  allusion  to  the  Billy  Goat  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  the  little  boy.  He  felt  sure  there  was 
a  story  somewhere  behind  it,  and  when  Uncle  Remus  had  fin 
ished  his  wagon,  he  began  to  investigate  it. 

"  What  did  the  Billy  Goat  talk  about  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Go  en  break  yo'  waggin  ;  you  gwine  ter  break  it  anyhow,  en 
you  des  ez  well  go  now." 

"  I  won't  break  it  any  more*  Uncle  Remus,"  said  the  little 
boy.  "  I'm  going  to  grease  it  and  put  it  away.  What  did  the 
Billy  Goat  talk  about  ?" 

"  He  talked  'bout  deze  yer  little  chaps  what  pester  folks  con- 


430  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

stant,  en  he  say  dey  better  quit  der  'havishness  en  1'arn  how  ter 
don't.  Dat  what  he  say." 

"  Now,  Uncle  Remus,  you  know  that  isn't  what  the  Billy  Goat 
said." 

"  Well,  he  ought  ter  say  it  if  he  ain't,"  remarked  the  old  man. 

The  shrewd  youngster  placed  himself  in  the  attitude  of  a  lis 
tener  and  patiently  waited.  Uncle  Remus  watched  him  a  mo 
ment.  Then  he  shook  his  head  and  said  resignedly : 

"  You  sho'  does  bang  my  time.     You  er  wuss'n  Brer  Rabbit." 

The  little  boy  blushed  and  smiled  at  this,  for  he  regarded  it 
as  a  high  compliment. 

"Yasser,"  Uncle  Remus  went  on,  "wuss'n  Brer  Rabbit  — 
lots  wuss.  Hen  can't  cackle  widout  you  wanter  see  what  kinder 
egg  she  lay ;  ole  Brer  Billy  Goat  can't  take  a  chaw  terbacker  in 
jue  season  widout  you  want  ter  know  what  he  talkin'  'bout.  En 
ef  dey  is  any  tale  'bout  Brer  Billy  Goat,  'tain't  no  good  tale  fer 
chilluns,  kaze  dey  might  take  a  notion  dat  big  talk  is  de  right 
kinder  talk,  en  when  dey  take  dat  notion,  somebody  got  ter  frail 
'em  out  wid  a  bresh  broom." 

The  little  boy  said  nothing,  but  sat  listening. 

"  I  mighty  fear'd  you'll  hatter  skuzen  me,"  Uncle  Remus  re 
marked  after  a  pause.  "Look  like  my  'membunce  wobblin' 
'roun'  like  a  hoss  wid  de  blin'  staggers.  Yit,  nigh  ez  I  kin  git 
at  all  de  ins  en  outs  er  dish  yer  tale  what  we  been  talkin'  'bout, 
dey  wus  one  time  when  Brer  Wolf  wus  gwine  lopin'  'roun'  de 
settlement  feelin'  mighty  hongry.  He  want  some  vittles  fer  his- 
se'f,  en  he  want  some  fer  his  fambly,  yit  it  seem  like  he  can't  fin' 
none  nowhars.  He  talk  wid  Brer  B'ar,  en  he  hear  tell  dat  shote 
meat  mighty  good,  but  he  can't  fin'  no  shote ;  he  hear  tell  dat 
goat  meat  mighty  good,  but  he  can't  fin'  no  goat. 

"But  bimeby,  one  day  whiles  he  gwine  'long  de  road,  he  seed 
a  big  rock  layin'  in  a  fiel',  en  on  top  er  dish  yer  rock  wus  Brer 
Billy  Goat.  'Twan't  none  er  deze  yer  little  bit  er  rocks ;  it  'us 
mighty  nigh  ez  big  ez  dish  yer  house,  en  ole  Brer  Billy  Goat  wus 
a-standin'  up  dar  kinder  ruminatin'  'bout  oP  times.  Brer  Wolf 
loped  up,  he  did,  en  made  ready  fer  ter  see  what  kinder  tas'e 
goat  meat  got.  Yit  he  took  notice  dat  Brer  Billy  Goat  wus 


BROTHER  BILLY  GOAT  EATS  HIS  DINNER         431 

chawin'  away  like  he  eatin'  sump'n.  Brer  Wolf  sorter  wait 
awhile,  but  Brer  Billy  Goat  wus  constant  a-chawin'  en  a-chawin'. 
Brer  Wolf  look  en  he  look,  but  Brer  Billy  Goat  keep  on  a-chawin' 
en  a-chawin'. 

"  Brer  Wolf  look  close.  He  ain't  see  no  green  grass,  he  ain't 
see  no  shucks,  he  ain't  see  no  straw,  he  ain't  see  no  leaf.  Brer 
Billy  Goat  keep  on  a-chawin'  en  a-chawin'.  Brer  Wolf  study, 
but  he  dunner  what  de  name  er  goodness  Brer  Billy  Goat  kin 
be  eatin'  up  dar.  So  bimeby  he  hail  'im. 

"  He  'low,  sezee.  *  Howdy,  Brer  Billy  Goat,  howdy.  I  hope 
you  er  middlin'  peart  deze  hard  times  ? ' 

"  Brer  Billy  Goat  shake  his  long  beard  en  keep  on  a-chawin'. 

"Brer  Wolf,  'low,  sezee,  *  What  you  eatin',  Brer  Billy  Goat? 
Look  like  it  tas'e  mighty  good.' 

"  Brer  Billy  Goat  'low,  '  I'm  a-eatin'  dish  yer  rock;  dat  what 
I'm  a-eatin'.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  make  answer,  '  I'm  mighty  hongry  myself,  — but 
I  don't  speck  I  kin  go  dat.' 

"  Brer  Billy  Goat  'low,  '  Come  up  whar  I  is,  en  I'll  break  you 
off  a  hunk  wid  my  horns.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  say,  sezee,  dat  he  mighty  much  erbleege,  but  he 
speck  he  hatter  be  gittin'  'long,  en  he  'low  ter  hisse'f,  *  Ef  Brer 
Billy  Goat  kin  eat  rock  like  dat,  I  speck  I  better  go  'long  en  let 
'im  'lone.' 

"  Brer  Billy  Goat  holler  at  'im  en  say,  sezee :  '  Ef  you  can't 
clime  up,  Brer  Wolf,  I  kin  come  down  dar  en  help  you  up.  De 
rock  whar  I  is  is  mo'  fresher  dan  dat  down  dar.  It's  some 
harder,  but  it's  lots  mo'  fresher.' 

"  But  Brer  Wolf  ain't  stop  ter  make  answer.  He  des  kep' 
a-gwine.  He  tuk  it  in  his  head  dat  if  Brer  Billy  Goat  kin  eat 
rock  dat  away,  'twon't  do  to  fool  'long  wid  'im,  kaze  ef  a  creetur 
kin  eat  rock,  he  kin  eat  whatsomdever  dey  put  'fo  'im." 

"  What  was  Brother  Goat  chewing?  "  asked  the  little  boy. 

"  Nothin'  'tall,  honey.  He  wus  des  chawin'  his  cud  en  talkin' 
big,  en  I  done  seed  lots  er  folks  do  dat  away  —  niggers  well  ez 
white  folks." 


432  JAMES  LANE  ALLEN 


JAMES   LANE   ALLEN 

[BORN,  of  Virginia  ancestry  and  a  pioneer  family,  in-  Fayette  County,  near 
Lexington,  Kentucky,  in  1  849.  He  graduated  at  Transylvania  (now  Kentucky) 
University  in  1872;  taught  for  some  years  in  district  schools  near  his  home  and 
in  Missouri;  became  a  private  tutor,  and  then  a  professor  in  his  Alma  Mater; 
and  was  called  to  the  chair  of  Latin  and  higher  English  in  Bethany  College, 
West  Virginia.  After  two  years  he  resigned  his  professorship  (1884)  and, 
residing  part  of  his  time  in  New  York,  devoted  himself  to  literature,  chiefly 
in  the  form  of  essays  and  letters  to  periodicals.  Then  he  made  his  name 
widely  known  by  his  idealistic  stories  of  Kentucky  life  published  in  Harpers 
Magazine  and  The  Century,  and  he  collected  these  stories  in  a  volume  entitled 
"Flute  and  Violin"  (1891).  This  was  followed  by  attractive  novelettes  — 
"A  Kentucky  Cardinal"  (1895),  and  its  sequel  "Aftermath"  (1896), 
and  "A  Summer  in  Arcady"1  (1896),  which  increased  his  reputation, 
especially  among  lovers  of  artistic  prose  dealing  with  the  charms  of  nature. 
He  took  his  place  in  the  front  rank  of  living  American  novelists  by  "The 
Choir  Invisible"  (1897),  an  expansion  of  a  story  entitled  "John  Gray"  pub 
lished  in  Lippi  ncotfs  Magazine  for  July,  1  892.  This  very  successful  novel,  of 
which  a  quarter  of  a  million  copies  were  sold  in  America  and  Great  Britain, 
was  followed  by  a  book  entitled  "  The  Reign  of  Law,  A  Story  of  the  Ken 
tucky  Hemp  Fields"  (1900),  which  was  much  discussed;  and  by  "  The  Mettle 
of  the  Pasture"  (1903).  Mr.  Allen,  who  is  also  the  author  of  a  volume 
descriptive  of  "The  Blue-Grass  Region  of  Kentucky"  (1892),  has  success 
fully  evaded  being  made  the  subject  of  much  literary  gossip;  but  his  work 
has  attracted  serious  criticism,  best  represented,  perhaps,  by  the  sympathetic 
essay  by  Professor  J.  B.  Henneman  in  "  Southern  Writers  "  (Second  Series, 


THE  WOODS   ARE   HUSHED2 
[FROM  "FLUTE  AND  VIOLIN."     1904.] 

IT  was  near  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  of  an  autumnal  day, 
on  the  wide,  grassy  plateau  of  Central  Kentucky. 

The  Eternal  Power  seemed  to  have  quitted  the  universe  and 

1  Known  in  its  magazine  form  as  "  Butterflies." 

2  Copyright  by  The  Macmillan  Co.     Reprinted  with  the  kind  permission  of  the 
author  and  the  publishers.    The  extract  is  the  beginning  of  the  story  "  Two  Gentle 
men  of  Kentucky." 


THE    WOODS  ARE  HUSHED  433 

left  all  nature  folded  in  the  calm  of  the  Eternal  Peace.  Around 
the  pale-blue  dome  of  the  heavens  a  few  pearl-colored  clouds 
hung  motionless,  as  though  the  wind  had  been  withdrawn  to  other 
skies.  Not  a  crimson  leaf  floated  downward  through  the  soft, 
silvery  light  that  filled  the  atmosphere  and  created  the  sense  of 
lonely,  unimaginable  spaces.  This  light  overhung  the  far-rolling 
landscape  of  field  and  meadow  and  wood,  crowning  with  faint 
radiance  the  remoter  low-swelling  hill-tops  and  deepening  into 
dreamy  half-shadows  on  their  eastern  slopes.  Nearer,  it  fell  in  a 
white  flake  on  an  unstirred  sheet  of  water  which  lay  along  the 
edge  of  a  mass  of  sombre-hued  woodland,  and  nearer  still  it 
touched  to  spring-like  brilliancy  a  level,  green  meadow  on  the 
hither  edge  of  the  water,  where  a  group  of  Durham  cattle  stood 
with  reversed  flanks  near  the  gleaming  trunks  of  some  leafless 
sycamores.  Still  nearer,  it  caught  the  top  of  the  brown  foliage  of 
a  little  bent  oak-tree  and  burned  it  into  a  silvery  flame.  It  lit  on 
the  back  and  the  wings  of  a  crow  flying  heavily  in  the  path  of  its 
rays,  and  made  his  blackness  as  white  as  the  breast  of  a  swan. 
In  the  immediate  foreground,  it  sparkled  in  minute  gleams  along 
the  stalks  of  the  coarse,  dead  weeds  that  fell  away  from  the  legs 
and  the  flanks  of  a  white  horse,  and  slanted  across  the  face  of  the 
rider  and  through  the  ends  of  his  gray  hair,  which  straggled  from 
beneath  his  soft  black  hat. 

The  horse,  old  and  patient  and  gentle,  stood  with  low-stretched 
neck  and  closed  eyes  half  asleep  in  the  faint  glow  of  the  waning 
heat;  and  the  rider,  the  sole  human  presence  in  all  the  field,  sat 
looking  across  the  silent  autumnal  landscape,  sunk  in  reverie. 
Both  horse  and  rider  seemed  but  harmonious  elements  in  the 
panorama  of  still-life,  and  completed  the  picture  of  a  closing  scene. 

To  the  man  it  was  a  closing  scene.  From  the  rank,  fallow  field 
through  which  he  had  been  riding  he  was  now  surveying,  for  the 
last  time,  the  many  features  of  a  landscape  that  had  been  familiar 
to  him  from  the  beginning  of  memory.  In  the  afternoon  and  the 
autumn  of  his  age  he  was  about  to  rend  the  last  ties  that  bound 
him  to  his  former  life,  and,  like  one  who  had  survived  his  own 
destiny,  turn  his  face  towards  a  future  that  was  void  of  everything 
he  held  significant  or  dear. 

2F 


434  JAMES  LANE  ALLEN 

The  Civil  War  had  only  the  year  before  reached  its  ever- 
memorable  close.  From  where  he  sat  there  was  not  a  home  in 
sight,  as  there  was  not  one  beyond  the  reach  of  his  vision,  but 
had  felt  its  influence.  Some  of  his  neighbors  had  come  home 
from  its  camps  and  prisons,  aged  or  altered  as  though  by  half  a 
lifetime  of  years.  The  bones  of  some  lay  whitening  on  its  battle 
fields.  Families,  reassembled  around  their  hearth-stones,  spoke 
in  low  tones  unceasingly  of  defeat  and  victory,  heroism,  and  death. 
Suspicion  and  distrust  and  estrangement  prevailed.  Former 
friends  met  each  other  on  the  turnpikes  without  speaking ;  brothers 
avoided  each  other  in  the  streets  of  the  neighboring  town.  The 
rich  had  grown  poor ;  the  poor  had  become  rich.  Many  of  the 
latter  were  preparing  to  move  West.  The  negroes  were  drifting 
blindly  hither  and  thither,  deserting  the  country  and  flocking  to  the 
towns.  Even  the  once  united  church  of  his  neighborhood  was 
jarred  by  the  unstrung  and  discordant  spirit  of  the  times.  At 
affecting  passages  in  the  sermons  men  grew  pale  and  set  their 
teeth  fiercely;  women  suddenly  lowered  their  black  veils  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  in  their  pews  ;  for  it  is  always  at  the  bar  of  Con 
science  and  before  the  very  altar  of  God  that  the  human  heart  is 
most  wrung  by  a  sense  of  its  losses  and  the  memory  of  its 
wrongs.  The  war  had  divided  the  people  of  Kentucky  as  the 
false  mother  would  have  severed  the  child. 

It  had  not  left  the  old  man  unscathed.  His  younger  brother 
had  fallen  early  in  the  conflict,  borne  to  the  end  of  his  brief  war 
fare  by  his  impetuous  valor,  his  aged  mother  had  sunk  under  the 
tidings  of  the  death  of  her  latest-born ;  his  sister  was  estranged 
from  him  by  his  political  differences  with  her  husband;  his  old 
family  servants,  men  and  women,  had  left  him,  and  grass  and 
weeds  had  already  grown  over  the  door-steps  of  the  shut,  noise 
less  cabins.  Nay,  the  whole  vast  social  system  of  the  old  regime 
had  fallen,  and  he  was  henceforth  but  a  useless  fragment  of  the 
ruins. 

All  at  once  his  mind  turned  from  the  cracked  and  smoky  mirror 
of  the  times  and  dwelt  fondly  upon  the  scenes  of  the  past.  The 
'Silent  fields  around  him  seemed  again  alive  with  the  negroes,  sing 
ing  as  they  followed  the  ploughs  down  the  corn-rows  or  swung  the 


THE    WOODS  ARE  HUSHED  435 

cradles  through  the  bearded  wheat.  Again,  in  a  frenzy  of  merri 
ment,  the  strains  of  the  old  fiddles  issued  from  crevices  of  cabin- 
doors  to  the  rhythmic  beat  of  hands  and  feet  that  shook  the  rafters 
and  the  roof.  Now  he  was  sitting  on  his  porch,  and  one  little 
negro  was  blacking  his  shoes,  another  leading  his  saddle-horse  to 
the  stiles,  a  third  bringing  his  hat,  and  a  fourth  handing  him  a 
glass  of  ice-cold  sangaree ;  or  now  he  lay  under  the  locust-trees 
in  his  yard,  falling  asleep  in  the  drowsy  heat  of  the  summer 
afternoon,  while  on,e  waved  over  him  a  bough  of  pungent  walnut 
leaves,  until  he  lost  consciousness  and  by-and-by  awoke  to  find 
that  they  both  had  fallen  asleep  side  by  side  on  the  grass  and  that 
the  abandoned  fly-brush  lay  full  across  his  face. 

From  where  he  sat  also  were  seen  slopes  on  which  picnics  were 
danced  under  the  broad  shade  of  maples  and  elms  in  June  by  those 
whom  death  and  war  had  scattered  like  the  transitory  leaves  that 
once  had  sheltered  them.  In  this  direction  lay  the  district  school- 
house  where  on  Friday  evenings  there  were  wont  to  be  speeches 
and  debates ;  in  that,  lay  the  blacksmith's  shop  where  of  old  he 
and  his  neighbors  had  met  on  horseback  of  Saturday  afternoons 
to  hear  the  news,  get  the  mails,  discuss  elections,  and  pitch  quoits. 
In  the  valley  beyond  stood  the  church  at  which  all  had  assembled 
on  calm  Sunday  mornings  like  the  members  of  one  united  family. 
Along  with  these  scenes  went  many  a  chastened  reminiscence  of 
bridal  and  funeral  and  simpler  events  that  had  made  up  the  annals 
of  his  country  life. 

The  reader  will  have  a  clearer  insight  into  the  character  and 
past  career  of  Colonel  Romulus  Fields  by  remembering  that  he 
represented  a  fair  type  of  that  social  order  which  had  existed  in 
rank  perfection  over  the  blue-grass  plains  of  Kentucky  during  the 
final  decades  of  the  old  regime.  Perhaps  of  all  agriculturists  in 
the  United  States  the  inhabitants  of  that  region  had  spent  the 
most  nearly  idyllic  life,  on  account  of  the  beauty  of  the  climate, 
the  richness  of  the  land,  the  spacious  comfort  of  their  homes,  the 
efficiency  of  their  negroes,  and  the  characteristic  contentedness 
of  their  dispositions.  Thus  nature  and  history  combined  to  make 
them  a  peculiar  class,  a  cross  between  the  aristocratic  and  the 
bucolic,  being  as  simple  as  shepherds  and  as  proud  as  kings,  and 


436  JAMES  LANE  ALLEN 

not  seldom  exhibiting  among  both  men  and  women  types  of  char 
acter  which  were  as  remarkable  for  pure,  tender,  noble  states  of 
feeling  as  they  were  commonplace  in  powers  and  cultivation  of 
mind. 

It  was  upon  this  luxurious  social  growth  that  the  war  naturally 
fell  as  a  killing  frost,  and  upon  no  single  specimen  with  more 
blighting  power  than  upon  Colonel  Fields.  For  destiny  had  quar 
ried  and  chiselled  him,  to  serve  as  an  ornament  in  the  barbaric 
temple  of  human  bondage.  There  were  ornaments  in  that  temple, 
and  he  was  one.  A  slave-holder  with  Southern  sympathies,  a  man 
educated  not  beyond  the  ideas  of  his  generation,  convinced  that 
slavery  was  an  evil,  yet  seeing  no  present  way  of  removing  it,  he 
had  of  all  things  been  a  model  master.  As  such  he  had  gone  on 
record  in  Kentucky,  and  no  doubt  in  a  Higher  Court;  and  as  such 
his  efforts  had  been  put  forth  to  secure  the  passage  of  many  of 
those  milder  laws  for  which  his  State  was  distinguished.  Often, 
in  those  dark  days,  his  face,  anxious  and  sad,  was  to  be  seen  amid 
the  throng  that  surrounded  the  blocks  on  which  slaves  were  sold 
at  auction ;  and  more  than  one  poor  wretch  he  had  bought  to 
save  him  from  separation  from  his  family  or  from  being  sold  into 
the  Southern  plantations  —  afterwards  riding  far  and  near  to  find 
him  a  home  on  one  of  the  neighboring  farms. 

But  all  those  days  were  over.  He  had  but  to  place  the  whole 
picture  of  the  present  beside  the  whole  picture  of  the  past  to 
realize  what  the  contrast  meant  for  him. 

At  length  he  gathered  the  bridle  reins  from  the  neck  of  his  old 
horse  and  turned  his  head  homeward.  As  he  rode  slowly  on, 
every  spot  gave  up  its  memories.  He  dismounted  when  he  came 
to  the  cattle  and  walked  among  them,  stroking  their  soft  flanks 
and  feeling  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  the  rasp  of  their  salt-loving 
tongues ;  on  his  sideboard  at  home  was  many  a  silver  cup  which 
told  of  premiums  on  cattle  at  the  great  fairs.  It  was  in  this  very 
pond  that  as  a  boy  he  had  learned  to  swim  on  a  cherry  rail.  When 
he  entered  the  woods,  the  sight  of  the  walnut-trees  and  the  hickory- 
nut  trees,  loaded  on  the  topmost  branches,  gave  him  a  sudden 
pang. 

Beyond  the  woods  he  came  upon  the  garden,  which  he  had  kept 


THE    WOODS  ARE  HUSHED  437 

as  his  mother  had  left  it  —  an  old-fashioned  garden  with  an  arbor 
in  the  centre,  covered  with  Isabella  grape-vines  on  one  side  and 
Catawba  on  the  other ;  with  walks  branching  thence  in  four  direc 
tions,  and  along  them  beds  of  jump-up-johnnies,  sweet-williams, 
daffodils,  sweet-peas,  larkspur,  and  thyme,  flags  and  the  sensitive- 
plant,  celestial  and  maiden's-blush  roses.  He  stopped  and  looked 
over  the  fence  at  the  very  spot  where  he  had  found  his  mother  on 
the  day  when  the  news  of  the  battle  came. 

She  had  been  kneeling,  trowel  in  hand,  driving  away  vigorously 
at  the  loamy  earth,  and,  as  she  saw  him  coming,  had  risen  and 
turned  towards  him  her  face  with  the  ancient  pink  bloom  on  her 
clear  cheeks  and  the  light  of  a  pure,  strong  soul  in  her  gentle  eyes. 
Overcome  by  his  emotions,  he  had  blindly  faltered  out  the  words, 
"  Mother,  John  was  among  the  killed  !  "  For  a  moment  she  had 
looked  at  him  as  though  stunned  by  a  blow.  Then  a  violent  flush 
had  overspread  her  features,  and  then  an  ashen  pallor ;  after  which, 
with  a  sudden  proud  dilating  of  her  form  as  though  with  joy,  she 
had  sunk  down  like  the  tenderest  of  her  lily-stalks,  cut  from  its 
root. 

Beyond  the  garden  he  came  to  the  empty  cabin  and  the  great 
wood-pile.  At  this  hour  it  used  to  be  a  scene  of  hilarious  activity 
—  the  little  negroes  sitting  perched  in  chattering  groups  on  the 
topmost  logs  or  playing  leap-frog  in  the  dust,  while  some  picked 
up  baskets  of  chips  or  dragged  a  back-log  into  the  cabins. 

At  last  he  drew  near  the  wooden  stiles  and  saw  the  large  house 
of  which  he  was  the  solitary  occupant.  What  darkened  rooms 
and  noiseless  halls  !  What  beds,  all  ready,  that  nobody  now  came 
to  sleep  in,  and  cushioned  old  chairs  that  nobody  rocked  !  The 
house  and  the  contents  of  its  attic,  presses,  and  drawers  could 
have  told  much  of  the  history  of  Kentucky  from  almost  its  begin 
ning;  for  its  foundations  had  been  laid  by  his  father  near  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  and  through  its  doors  had  passed  a  long 
train  of  forms,  from  the  veterans  of  the  Revolution  to  the  soldiers 
of  the  Civil  War.  Old  coats  hung  up  in  closets ;  old  dresses 
folded  away  in  drawers ;  saddle-bags  and  buckskin-leggings ; 
hunting-jackets,  powder-horns,  and  militiamen  hats;  looms  and 
knitting-needles ;  snuffboxes  and  reticules  —  what  a  treasure- 


438  MISS  MARY  NOAILLES  MURFREE 

house  of  the  past  it  was  !  And  now  the  only  thing  that  had  the 
springs  of  life  within  its  bosom  was  the  great,  sweet-voiced  clock, 
whose  faithful  face  had  kept  unchanged  amid  all  the  swift  pag 
eantry  of  changes. 

He  dismounted  at  the  stiles  and  handed  the  reins  to  a  gray- 
haired  negro,  who  had  hobbled  up  to  receive  them  with  a  smile 
and  a  gesture  of  the  deepest  respect. 

"  Peter,"  he  said  very  simply,  "I  am  going  to  sell  the  place  and 
move  to  town.  I  can't  live  here  any  longer." 

With  these  words  he  passed  through  the  yard-gate,  walked 
slowly  up  the  broad  pavement,  and  entered  the  house. 


MISS    MARY   NOAILLES   MURFREE 

[BORN,  of  Revolutionary  stock,  near  Murfreesboro,  Tennessee,  January  24, 
1850.  She  was  educated  in  Nashville  and  in  Philadelphia,  and- being  lame 
from  childhood,  devoted  herself  to  the  reading  of  fiction.  Much  of  the 
family  wealth  was  swept  away  by  the  war,  but  not  before  she  had  seen  some 
thing  of  the  old-time  life  of  the  South.  For  many  years  she  spent  her  summers 
in  the  mountains  of  East  Tennessee,  and  her  imagination  was  permanently 
impressed  by  the  wild  beauty  of  the  Great  Smoky  range  and  by  the  primitive 
life  of  the  mountaineers.  She  began  writing  in  the  seventies,  contributing  to 
Appletorfs  Journal  and  using  the  pen-name  "  Charles  E.  Craddock."  Then 
she  wrote  for  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  first  during  the  editorship  of  Mr. 
Howells,  later  during  that  of  Mr.  Aldrich,  neither  of  whom  suspected  that 
their  contributor  was  a  woman.  Even  after  it  had  been  discovered  that  M.  N. 
Murfree  and  not  "  Charles  Egbert  Craddock  "  was  the  name  of  the  author 
of  the  Tennessee  stories  every  one  was  admiring,  it  was  a  great  surprise  to 
Mr.  Aldrich  to  be  called  out  of  his  office  one  March  morning  in  1885  to 
meet  a  small  young  woman  who  announced  that  she  was  "  Charles  Egbert 
Craddock."  The  year  before  she  had  collected  her  stories  in  her  first  popular 
book  "  In  the  Tennessee  Mountains."  This  was  followed  by  "  Down  the 
Ravine"  (1885),  "The  Prophet  of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains"  (1885), 
"  In  the  Clouds  "  (1886),  and  about  a  dozen  other  books  of  fiction.  After  her 
success  as  a  writer  was  established,  she  lived  some  time  in  the  East,  her  home 
having  previously  been  in  St.  Louis,  whither  her  parents  had  removed  in  1881. 
She  is  now  a  resident  of  her  birthplace,  Murfreesboro.  For  criticism,  see 
Baskervill's  "Southern  Writers"  (1898).] 


A    GROUP   OF  PIONEERS  439 

A   GROUP   OF  PIONEERS  * 
[FROM  "THE  STORY  OF  OLD  FORT  LOUDON."     1898.] 

ALONG  the  buffalo  paths,  from  one  salt-lick  to  another,  a  group 
of  pioneers  took  a  vagrant  way  through  the  dense  cane-brakes. 
Never  a  wheel  had  then  entered  the  deep  forests  of  this  western 
wilderness ;  the  frontiersman  and  the  packhorse  were  comrades. 
Dark,  gloomy,  with  long,  level  summit-lines,  a  grim  outlier  of  the 
mountain  range,  since  known  as  the  Cumberland,  stretched  from 
northeast  to  southwest,  seeming  as  they  approached  to  interpose 
an  insurmountable  barrier  to  further  progress,  until  suddenly,  as 
in  the  miracle  of  a  dream,  the  craggy  wooded  heights  showed  a 
gap,  cloven  to  the  heart  of  the  steeps,  opening  out  their  path  as 
through  some  splendid  gateway,  and  promising  deliverance,  a  new 
life,  and  a  new  and  beautiful  land.  For  beyond  the  darkling  cliffs 
on  either  hand  an  illuminated  vista  stretched  in  every  lengthening 
perspective,  with  softly  nestling  sheltered  valleys,  and  parallel 
lines  of  distant  azure  mountains,  and  many  a  mile  of  level  wood 
land  high  on  an  elevated  plateau,  all  bedight  in  the  lingering  flare 
of  the  yellow,  and  deep  red,  and  sere  brown  of  late  autumn,  and 
all  suffused  with  an  opaline  haze  and  the  rich,  sweet  languors  of 
sunset-tide  on  an  Indian-summer  day. 

As  that  enchanted  perspective  opened  to  the  view,  a  sudden 
joyous  exclamation  rang  out  on  the  still  air.  The  next  moment  a 
woman,  walking  beside  one  of  the  packhorses,  clapped  both  hands 
over  her  lips,  and  turning  looked  with  apprehensive  eyes  at  the 
two  men  who  followed  her.  The  one  in  advance  cast  at  •  her  a 
glance  of  keen  reproach,  and  then  the  whole  party  paused  and 
with  tense  attention  bent  every  faculty  to  listen. 

Silence  could  hardly  have  been  more  profound.  The  regular 
respiration  of  the  two  horses  suggested  sound.  But  the  wind  did 
not  stir;  the  growths  of  the  limitless  cane-brakes  in  the  valley 
showed  no  slight  quiver  in  the  delicately  poised  fibers  of  their 
brown  feathery  crests ;  the  haze,  all  shot  through  with  glimmers 

1  Copyright,  1898,  by  The  Macmillan  Co. 


440  MISS  MARY  NOAILLES  MURFREE 

of  gold  in  its  gauzy  gray  folds,  rested  on  the  mute  woods ;  the 
suave  sky  hung  above  the  purple  western  heights  without  a  breath. 
No  suggestion  of  motion  in  all  the  landscape,  save  the  sudden 
melting  away  of  a  flake  of  vermilion  cloud  in  a  faintly  green 
expanse  of  the  crystal  heavens. 

The  elder  man  dropped  his  hand  that  had  been  raised  to 
impose  silence,  and  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  ground.  "  I  cannot 
be  rid  of  the  idea  that  we  are  followed,"  he  said.  "But  I  hear 
nothing." 

Although  the  eldest  of  the  group,  he  was  still  young,  —  twenty- 
five,  perhaps.  He  was  tall,  strong,  alert,  with  a  narrow,  long  face  ; 
dark,  slow  eyes,  that  had  a  serious,  steadfast  expression ;  dark 
brown  hair,  braided  in  the  queue  often  discarded  by  the  hunters 
of  this  day.  A  certain  staid,  cautious  sobriety  of  manner  hardly 
assorted  with  the  rough-and-ready  import  of  his  garb  and  the 
adventurous  place  and  time.  Both  he  and  the  younger  man,  who 
was  in  fact  a  mere  boy  not  yet  seventeen,  but  tall,  muscular, 
sinewy,  —  stringy,  one  might  say,  —  of  build,  were  dressed  alike 
in  loose  hunting-shirts  of  buckskin,  heavily  fringed,  less  for  the 
sake  of  ornament  than  the  handiness  of  a  selection  of  thongs 
always  ready  to  be  detached  for  use;  for  the  same  reason  the 
deerskin  leggings,  reaching  to  the  thighs  over  the  knee-breeches 
and  long  stockings  of  that  day,  were  also  furnished  with  these 
substantial  fringes ;  shot-pouch  and  powder-horn  were  suspended 
from  a  leather  belt,  and  on  the  other  side  a  knife -hilt  gleamed 
close  to  the  body.  Both  wore  coonskin  caps,  but  that  of  the 
younger  preserved  the  tail  to  hang  down  like  a  plume  among  his 
glossy  brown  tangles  of  curls,  which,  but  for  a  bit  of  restraining 
ribbon,  resisted  all  semblance  to  the  gentility  of  a  queue.  The 
boy  was  like  his  brother  in  the  clear  complexion  and  the  color  of 
the  dark  eyes  and  hair,  but  the  expression  of  his  eyes  was  wild, 
alert,  and  although  fired  with  the  earnest  ardor  of  first  youth,  they 
had  certain  roguish  intimations,  subdued  now  since  they  were 
still  and  seriously  expectant,  but  which  gave  token  how  acceptably 
he  could  play  that  cherished  rdle,  to  a  secluded  and  isolated  fire 
side,  of  family  buffoon,  and  make  gay  mirth  for  the  applause  of 
the  chimney-corner.  The  brothers  were  both  shod  with  deerskin 


A    GROUP   OF  PIONEERS  441 

buskins,  but  the  other  two  of  the  party  wore  the  shoe  of  civiliza 
tion, —  one  a  brodequin,  that  despite  its  rough  and  substantial 
materials  could  but  reflect  a  grace  from  the  dainty  foot  within  it ; 
the  other  showed  the  stubby  shapes  deemed  meet  for  the  early 
stages  of  the  long  tramp  of  life.  The  little  girl's  shoes  were 
hardly  more  in  evidence  than  the  mother's,  for  the  skirts  of  chil 
dren  were  worn  long,  and  only  now  and  then  was  betrayed  a 
facetious  skip  of  some  active  toes  in  the  blunt  foot-gear.  Their 
dresses  were  of  the  same  material,  a  heavy  gray  serge,  which  fact 
gave  the  little  one  much  satisfaction,  for  she  considered  that  it 
made  them  resemble  the  cow  and  calf —  both  great  personages  in 
her  mind.  .  .  . 

"  I  thought  I  heard  something,"  said  the  boy,  shouldering  his 
rifle  and  turning  westward,  "  but  I  couldn't  say  what." 

"  Ah,  quelle  barbaric  !  "  J  exclaimed  the  woman,  with  a  sigh, 
half  petulance,  half  relief. 

She  seemed  less  the  kind  of  timber  that  was  to  build  up  the 
great  structure  of  western  civilization  than  did  the  others,  —  all 
unfitted  for  its  hardships  and  privation  and  labor.  Her  gray  serge 
gown  was  worn  with  a  sort  of  subtle  elegance  hardly  discounted  by 
the  plainness  of  the  material  and  make.  The  long,  pointed  waist 
accented  the  slender  grace  of  her  figure;  the  skirt  had  folds 
clustered  on  the  hips  that  gave  a  sort  of  fullness  to  the  drapery 
and  suggested  the  charm  of  elaborate  costume.  She  wore  a  hood 
on  her  head,  — a  large  calash,2  which  had  a  curtain  that  hung  about 
her  shoulders.  This  was  a  dark  red,  of  the  tint  called  Indian  red, 
and  as  she  pushed  it  back  and  turned  her  face,  realizing  that  the 
interval  of  watching  was  over,  the  fairness  of  her  complexion,  the 
beauty  of  her  dark,  liquid  eyes,  the  suggestion  of  her  well-ordered, 
rich  brown  hair  above  her  high  forehead,  almost  regal  in  its  noble 
cast,  the  perfection  of  the  details  of  her  simple  dress,  all  seemed 
infinitely  incongruous  with  her  estate  as  a  poor  settler's  wife,  and 
the  fact  that  since  dawn  and  for  days  past  she  had,  with  the  little 

1  What  a  barbarous  way  of  living. 

2  A  calash  was  a  light  carriage,  and  hoods  were  made  in  the  form  of  a  calash- 
top,  large  and  full,  and  supported  on  a  framework  so  as  to  cover  the  head-dresses 
of  the  period.    See  Century  Dictionary. 


442  MISS  MARY  NOAILLES  MURFREE 

all  she  possessed,  fled  from  the  pursuit  of  savage  Indians.  She 
returned  with  a  severe  glance  the  laughing  grimace  of  the  boy, 
with  which,  despite  his  own  fear  but  a  moment  ago,  he  had,  in 
the  mobility  of  the  moods  of  youth,  decorated  his  countenance. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  you,  Hamish,"  she  said  to  him,  "  I  should 
not  be  so  terrified.  I  have  seen  Indians  many  a  time,  —  yes,  — 
and  when  they  were  on  the  war-path,  too.  But  to  add  to  their 
fury  by  an  act  of  defiance  on  our  part !  It  is  fatal  —  they  have 
only  to  overtake  us." 


SPRING  AND   SUMMER  IN   EAST  TENNESSEE1 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  winter  wore  gradually  away.  While  the  snows  were  still 
on  the  ground,  and  the  eastern  mountain  domes  were  glittering 
white  against  a  pale  blue  sky,  all  adown  the  nearer  slopes  the 
dense  forests  showed  a  clear  garnet  hue,  that  betokened  the  swell 
ing  of  congregated  masses  of  myriads  of  budding  boughs.  Even 
the  aspect  of  more  distant  ranges  bespoke  a  change,  in  the  dull 
soft  blue  which  replaced  the  hard  lapis-lazuli  tint  that  the  chill, 
sharp  weather  had  known.  For  the  cold  had  now  a  reviviscent 
tang  —  not  the  bleak,  benumbing,  icy  deadness  of  the  winter's 
thrall.  And  while  the  flames  still  flared  on  the  hearth,  and  the 
thumping  of  the  batten2  and  the  creak  of  the  treadle  resounded  most 
of  the  day  from  the  little  shed-room  where  Odalie  worked  at  her 
loom,  and  the  musical  whir  of  her  spinning-wheel  enlivened  all  the 
fire-lit  evenings  as  she  sat  in  the  chimney  corner,  the  thaws  came 
on,  and  brought  the  mountain  snows  down  the  Tennessee  River  with 
a  great  rushing  turbulence,  and  it  lifted  a  wild,  imperious,  chanting 
voice  into  the  primeval  stillness.  A  delicate  vernal  haze  began  to 
pervade  the  air, 'and  a  sweet  placidity,  as  if  all  nature  were  in  a 
dream,  not  dead,  —  an  expectant  moment,  the  crisis  of  develop 
ment.  Now  and  again  Odalie  and  Fifine3  would  come  to  the 

1  Copyright,  1898,  by  The  Macmillan  Co. 

2  "  The  beam  for  striking  the  weft  home."  —  Century  Dictionary. 

3  The  mother  (Mrs.  McLeod)  and  daughter  of  the  first  extract. 


SPRING  AND  SUMMER  IN  EAST   TENNESSEE       443 

door,  summoned  by  a  loud  crackling  sound,  as  of  a  terrible  po 
tency,  and  watch  wincingly  the  pervasive  flare  of  the  great  elastic 
yellow  and  vermilion  flames  springing  into  the  air  from  the  bon 
fires  of  the  piles  of  cane  as  the  cleared  land  was  transformed  from 
the  cane-break  into  fields.  And  soon  the  ploughs  were  running. 
Oh,  it  was  spring  in  this  loveliest  of  regions,  in  this  climate  of 
garnered  delights  !  As  the  silvery  sycamore  trees,  leaning  over 
the  glittering  reaches  of  the  slate-blue  river,  put  forth  the  first 
green  leaves,  of  the  daintiest  vernal  hue,  Odalie  loved  to  gaze 
through  them  from  the  door  of  the  cabin,  perchance  to  note  an 
eagle  wing  its  splendid  flight  above  the  long,  rippling  white  flashes 
of  the  current ;  or  a  canoe,  as  swift,  as  light,  cleave  the  denser 
medium  of  the  water;  or  in  the  stillness  of  the  noon  a  deer  lead 
down  a  fawn  to  drink.  She  was  wont  to  hear  the  mocking-bird 
pour  forth  his  thrilling  ecstasy  of  song,  the  wild  bee  drone,  and  in 
the  distance  the  muffled  booming  thunder  of  the  herds  of  buffalo. 
Who  so  quick  to  see  the  moon,  this  vernal  moon,  —  surely  not 
some  old  dead  world  of  lost  history,  and  burnt-out  hopes,  and  de 
stroyed  utilities,  but  fair  of  face,  virginal  and  fresh  as  the  spring 
itself,  —  come  down  the  river  in  the  sweet  dusk,  slowly,  softly, 
pace  by  pace,  ethereally  refulgent,  throwing  sparse  shadows  of  the 
newly-leaved  sycamore  boughs  far  up  the  slope,  across  the  thresh 
old  that  she  loved,  with  the  delicate  traceries  of  this  similitude 
of  the  roof-tree. 

"  Oh,  this  is  home  !  home  !  "  she  often  exclaimed,  clasping  her 
hands,  and  looking  out  in  a  sort  of  solemn  delight.  .  .  . 

The  season  waxed  to  ripeness.  The  opulent  beauty  of  the 
early  summer-tide  was  on  this  charmed  land.  Along  the  heavily- 
wooded  mountain  sides  the  prodigal  profusion  of  the  blooming 
rhododendron  glowed  with  a  splendor  in  these  savage  solitudes 
which  might  discredit  the  treasures  of  all  the  royal  gardens  of 
Europe.  Vast  lengths  of  cabling  grape-vines  hung  now  and  again 
from  the  summit  of  one  gigantic  tree  to  the  ground,  and  thence 
climbed  upward  a  hundred  feet  to  the  topmost  boughs  of  another. 
.  .  .  Everywhere  the  exquisite  mountain  azalea  was  abloom,  its 
delicate,  subtle  fragrance  pervading  the  air  as  the  appreciation  of 
some  noble  virtue  penetrates  and  possesses  the  soul,  so  intimate, 


444  HENRY   WOODFIN  GRADY 

so  indissoluble,  so  potent  of  cognition.  It  seemed  the  essential 
element  of  the  atmosphere  one  breathed.  And  this  atmosphere 
—  how  light  —  how  pure !  sheer  existence  was  a  cherished 
privilege.  .  .  .  Peace  upon  the  august  mountains  to  the  east,  veil 
ing  their  peaks  and  domes  in  stillness  and  with  diaphanous  cloud ; 
peace  upon  the  flashing  rivers,  infinitely  clear  and  deep  in  their 
cliff-bound  channels;  and  peace  upon  all  the  heavily-leaved 
shadowy  forests  to  the  massive  westward  range,  level  of  summit, 
stern  and  military  of  aspect,  like  some  gigantic  rampart ! 


HENRY   WOODFIN   GRADY 

[HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY  was  born  at  Athens,  Georgia,  May  17,  1851,  and 
died  at  Atlanta,  December  23,  1889.  He  was  an  active  and  bright  boy, 
especially  noted  for  his  sympathetic  qualities.  He  graduated  at  the  University 
of  Georgia,  then  studied  at  the  University  of  Virginia,  and  soon  after  began 
writing  for  the  Atlanta  Constitution.  His  first  editorial  work  was  done  on 
the  Rome  Courier.  Wishing  to  denounce  a  political  ring,  he  wrote  an  edito 
rial  which  the  proprietor  of  the  Courier  would  not  let  him  publish.  Though 
little  more  than  a  boy,  Mr.  Grady  at  once  bought  two  other  papers  of  the 
town,  consolidated  them,  and  attacked  the  ring  in  them.  Soon  after  he  re 
moved  to  Atlanta  and  established  a  paper,  the  Herald,  which  failed  because 
he  did  not  look  after  the  financial  side  of  the  enterprise.  Bankrupt,  with 
wife  and  children  dependent  on  him,  he  went  to  New  York.  He  applied  for 
work  on  the  Herald,  wrote  a  prescribed  article  on  a  political  subject  in  a 
fashion  that  pleased  the  managing  editor,  and  was  sent  back  to  Georgia  in 
the  employ  of  the  Herald.  Then  he  became  a  reporter  on  the  Constitution, 
filling  its  columns  with  bright  things  and  charming  his  colleagues  by  his  flow 
of  talk  and  spirits.  In  the  disputed  election  of  1876  he  did  excellent  work 
as  a  correspondent  of  the  Herald,  particularly  in  connection  with  the  political 
situation  in  Florida.  In  1880,  with  $20,000  loaned  him  by  Cyrus  W.  Field, 
he  bought  a  fourth  interest  in  the  Constitution  and  became  its  managing 
editor,  displaying  great  independence  of  character  in  the  position.  Soon  he 
was  a  moving  spirit,  probably  the  moving  spirit,  in  the  Atlanta  Exposition  of 
1881.  Then  he  organized  the  Piedmont  Chautauqua,  being  always  alive  to 
the  necessity  for  popular  education  in  all  its  branches.  Other  state  and 
city  enterprises  were  greatly  indebted  to  his  energy  and  far-sightedness  —  in 
deed,  he  showed  himself  to  possess  not  a  few  of  the  characteristics  of 
Benjamin  Franklin  in  the  latter's  capacity  as  a  public-spirited  citizen.  He 
gave  currency  to  Senator  Ben  Hill's  phrase,  "the  New  South";  he  was,  to 


HENRY   WOODFIN  GRADY  '445 

quote  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  "  the  prophet,  if  not  the  pioneer  "  of  the  new 
spirit  of  activity  that  was  sweeping  over  the  section.  He  talked  about  it  and 
wrote  about  it,  particularly  in  his  contributions  to  Northern  papers.  He  was 
on  the  lookout  for  new  fields  of  enterprise,  and  often  discovered  them.  For 
example,  it  is  said  that  he  first  saw  what  fortunes  might  be  made  by  orange- 
growers  in  Florida.  But  he  was  soon  able  to  fill  a  larger  and  a  nobler  role. 
He  received  an  invitation  to  address  the  New  England  Society  of  New  York, 
accepted  it  with  hesitation,  felt  when  he  rose  to  speak  that  he  had  a  message 
for  his  hearers,  and  when  he  sat  down  on  that  evening  of  December  21,  1886, 
had  probably  done  more  than  any  other  man  of  his  generation  to  bring  the 
long-sundered  sections  together.  His  great  human  sympathy  and  his  oratori 
cal  talents  had  made  him  a  real  force  in  the  unification  of  the  American 
people.  His  personal  reputation  as  a  national  figure  was  made  also,  and  he 
was  invited  to  deliver  speeches  in  many  places.  His  most  important  address 
was  that  on  the  race  problem  delivered  before  the  Merchants'  Association  of 
Boston  in  December,  1889.  The  speech  produced  a  great  effect,  few  who 
heard  or  read  it  realizing  that  the  orator's  work  was  over  forever.  He  returned 
to  Atlanta  and  before  the  Christmas  festival,  always  so  dear  to  him,  came 
completely  round,  he  was  dead.  He  was  mourned  by  Atlanta  as  no  other 
citizen  had  ever  been,  and  the  state,  the  South,  and  the  nation  joined  in  the 
lamentation.  His  had  been,  indeed,  a  wonderful  career  in  many  ways.  He 
could  have  had  any  office  he  wanted,  though  he  cared  for  none;  he  could  move 
his  fellow-men  whenever  and  wherever  he  spoke  to  them;  he  had  the  genius 
of  the  organizer  and  the  journalist;  he  wrought  a  great  work  of  reconciliation 
for  the  nation;  yet,  such  is  the  irony  of  fate,  his  extraordinarily  rich  life  left 
little  behind  in  such  a  permanent  form  as  to  insure  his  being  known  and  loved 
by  posterity  almost  as  completely  as  by  his  contemporaries.  Such  is  usually  the 
fate  of  orators  and  of  men  who  throw  their  sympathetic  energy  into  a  variety 
of  good  works  —  that  is  of  men  who  are  not  artists  working  in  some  durable 
material  or  thinkers  making  lasting  contributions  to  the  world's  stock  of 
knowledge.  Realizing,  perhaps,  this  truth,  Mr.  Grady's  friends  at  once 
gathered  his  speeches  and  other  literary  remains  into  a  "  Memorial  Volume"  ' 
(1890)  to  which  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris  contributed  a  biographical  sketch 
and  in  which  a  large  number  of  tributes  from  prominent  journals  and  men 
were  gathered.  The  distinguished  Kentucky  editor,  Henry  Watterson,  fur 
nished  the  introduction,  and  struck  the  key-note  of  the  entire  volume  when 
he  wrote  of  Mr.  Grady :  "  He  was,  indeed,  the  hope  and  expectancy  of  the 
young  South,  the  one  publicist  of  the  New  South,  who,  inheriting  the  spirit  of 
the  old,  yet  had  realized  the  present,  and  looked  into  the  future,  with  the 
eyes  of  a  statesman  and  the  heart  of  a  patriot."  See  a  tribute  by  Grady's 
fellow-editor  Clark  Howell  in  The  Chautauquan,  Vol.  XXI,  and  an  article 
in  The  Arena,  Vol.  II.] 

1  There  was  another  collection  of  hte  writings  published  the  same  year. 


446  HENRY   WOOD  FIN  GRADY 


THE  NEW   SOUTH 

[DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  SOCIETY  OF  NEW  YORK  CITY  AT 
THEIR  DINNER  OF  DECEMBER  22,  1886.] 

"  THERE  was  a  South  of  slavery  and  secession  —  that  South  is 
dead.  There  is  a  South  of  union  and  freedom  —  that  South, 
thank  God,  is  living,  breathing,  growing  every  hour."  These 
words,  delivered  from  the  immortal  lips  of  Benjamin  H.  Hill,1  at 
Tammany  Hall,  in  1866,  true  then,  and  truer  now,  I  shall  make 
my  text  to-night. 

Mr.  President  and  Gentlemen :  Let  me  express  to  you  my 
appreciation  of  the  kindness  by  which  I  am  permitted  to  address 
you.  I  make  this  abrupt  acknowledgment  advisedly,  for  I  feel 
that  if,  when  I  raised  my  provincial  voice  in  this  ancient  and  au 
gust  presence,  I  could  find  courage  for  no  more  than  the  opening 
sentence,  it  would  be  well  if,  in  that  sentence,  I  had  met  in  a 
rough  sense  my  obligation  as  a  guest,  and  had  perished,  so  to 
speak,  with  courtesy  on  my  lips  and  grace  in  my  heart. 

Permitted,  through  your  kindness,  to  catch  my  second  wind, 
let  me  say  that  I  appreciate  the  significance  of  being  the  first 
Southerner  to  speak  at  this  board,  which  bears  the  substance,  if  it 
surpasses  the  semblance  of  original  New  England  hospitality,  and 
honors  a  sentiment  that  in  turn  honors  you,  but  in  which  my  per 
sonality  is  lost  and  the  compliment  to  my  people  made  plain. 

I  bespeak  the  utmost  stretch  of  your  courtesy  to-night.  I  am 
not  troubled  about  those  from  whom  I  come.  You  remember  the 
man  whose  wife  sent  him  to  a  neighbor  with  a  pitcher  of  milk,  and 
who,  tripping  on  the  top  step,  fell,  with  such  casual  interruptions 
as  the  landings  afforded,  into  the  basement ;  and,  while  picking 
himself  up,  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  wife  call  out :  — 

"  John,  did  you  break  the  pitcher?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  said  John,  "  but  I  be  dinged  if  I  don't." 

So,  while  those  who  call  to  me  from  behind  may  inspire  me 
with  energy,  if  not  with  courage,  I  ask  an  indulgent  hearing 

1  The  well-known  Georgia  Senator  and  orator  (1823-1882). 


THE  NEW  SOUTH  447 

from  you.  I  beg  that  you  will  bring  your  full  faith  in  American 
fairness  and  frankness  to  judgment  upon  what  I  shall  say.  There 
was  an  old  preacher  once  who  told  some  boys  of  the  Bible  lesson 
he  was  going  to  read  in  the  morning.  The  boys,  finding  the  place, 
glued  together  the  connecting  pages.  The  next  morning  he  read 
on  the  bottom  of  one  page  :  "  When  Noah  was  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years  old  he  took  unto  himself  a  wife,  who  was  "  then  turn 
ing  the  page,  "one  hundred  and  forty  cubits  long,  forty  cubits 
wide,  built  of  gopher  wood,  and  covered  with  pitch  inside  and 
out."  He  was  naturally  puzzled  at  this.  He  read  it  again,  veri 
fied  it,  and  then  said :  "  My  friends,  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever 
met  this  in  the  Bible,  but  I  accept  it  as  an  evidence  of  the  asser 
tion  that  we  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made."  If  I  could  get 
you  to  hold  such  faith  to-night,  I  could  proceed  cheerfully  to  the 
task  I  otherwise  approach  with  a  sense  of  consecration. 

########### 
Will  you  bear  with  me  while  I  tell  you  of  another  army  that 
sought  its  home  at  the  close  of  the  late  war?  An  army  that 
marched  home  in  defeat  and  not  in  victory — in  pathos  and  not  in 
splendor,  but  in  glory  that  equaled  yours,  and  to  hearts  as  loving 
as  ever  welcomed  heroes  home.  Let  me  picture  to  you  the  foot 
sore  Confederate  soldier,  as,  buttoning  up  in  his  faded  gray  jacket 
the  parole  which  was  to  bear  testimony  to  his  children  of  his  fidelity 
and  faith,  he  turned  his  face  southward  from  Appomattox  in  April, 
1865.  Think  of  him  as  ragged,  half-starved,  heavy-hearted,  en 
feebled  by  want  and  wounds;  having  fought  to  exhaustion,  he 
surrenders  his  gun,  wrings  the  hands  of  his  comrades  in  silence, 
and,  lifting  his  tear-stained  and  pallid  face  for  the  last  time  to  the 
graves  that  dot  the  old  Virginia  hills,  pulls  his  gray  cap  over  his 
brow  and  begins  the  slow  and  painful  journey.  What  does  he 
find?  —  let  me  ask  you  who  went  to  your  homes  eager  to  find,  in 
the  welcome  you  had  justly  earned,  full  payment  for  four  years' 
sacrifice  —  what  does  he  find  when,  having  followed  the  battle- 
stained  cross  against  overwhelming  odds,  dreading  death  not  half 
so  much  as  surrender  he  reaches  the  home  he  left  so  prosperous 
and  beautiful?  He  finds  his  house  in  ruins,  his  farm  devastated, 
his  slaves  free,  his  stock  killed,  his  barn  empty,  his  trade  destroyed, 


448  HENRY   WOODFIN  GRADY 

his  money  worthless ;  his  social  system,  feudal  in  its  magnificence, 
swept  away ;  his  people  without  law  or  legal  status ;  his  comrades 
slain,  and  the  burdens  of  others  heavy  on  his  shoulders.  Crushed 
by  defeat,  his  very  traditions  gone ;  without  money,  credit,  em 
ployment,  material  training ;  and  besides  all  this,  confronted  with 
the  gravest  problem  that  ever  met  human  intelligence — the 
establishing  of  a  status  for  the  vast  body  of  his  liberated  slaves. 

What  does  he  do  —  this  hero  in  gray,  with  a  heart  of  gold  ? 
Does  he  sit  down  in  sullenness  and  despair?  Not  for  a  day. 
Surely  God,  who  had  stripped  him  of  his  prosperity,  inspired  him 
in  his  adversity.  As  ruin  was  never  before  so  overwhelming, 
never  was  restoration  swifter.  The  soldier  stepped  from  the 
trenches  into  the  furrow ;  horses  that  had  charged  Federal  guns 
marched  before  the  plow,  and  the  fields  that  ran  red  with  human 
blood  in  April  were  green  with  the  harvest  in  June  ;  women  reared 
in  luxury  cut  up  their  dresses  and  made  breeches  for  their  hus 
bands,  and,  with  a  patience  and  heroism  that  fit  women  always  as 
a  garment,  gave  their  hands  to  work.  There  was  little  bitterness 
in  all  this.  Cheerfulness  and  frankness  prevailed.  "  Bill  Arp  "  * 
struck  the  keynote  when  he  said :  "  Well,  I  killed  as  many  of 
them  as  they  did  of  me,  and  now  I  am  going  to  work."  Or  the 
soldier  returning  home  after  defeat  and  roasting  some  corn  on  the 
roadside,  who  made  the  remark  to  his  comrades :  "  You  may 
leave  the  South  if  you  want  to,  but  I  am  going  to  Sandersville, 
kiss  my  wife  and  raise  a  crop,  and  if  the  Yankees  fool  with  me  any 
more  I  will  whip  'em  again."  I  want  to  say  to  General  Sherman 
—  who  is  considered  an  able  man  in  our  parts,  though  some 
people  think  he  is  kind  of  careless  about  fire  —  that  from  the 
ashes  he  left  us  in  1864  we  have  raised  a  brave  and  beautiful  city ; 
that  somehow  or  other  we  have  caught  the  sunshine  in  the  bricks 
and  mortar  of  our  homes,  and  have  builded  therein  not  one 
ignoble  prejudice  or  memory. 

But  in  all  this  what  have  we  accomplished?  What  is  the  sum 
of  our  work?  We  have  found  out  that  in  the  general  summary 
the  'free  negro  counts  more  than  he  did  as  a  slave.  We  have 
planted  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hilltop  and  made  it  free  to  white. 

1  Charles  Henry  Smith,  the  Georgia  humorist.    See  page  70. 


THE  NEW  SOUTH  449 

and  black.  We  have  sowed  towns  and  cities  in  the  place  of 
theories,  and  put  business  above  politics.  We  have  learned  that 
the  $400,000,000  annually  received  from  our  cotton  crop  will 
make  us  rich,  when  the  supplies  that  make  it  are  home-raised. 
We  have  reduced  the  commercial  rate  of  interest  from  twenty- 
four  to  four  per  cent.,  and  are  floating  four  per  cent,  bonds.  We 
have  learned  that  one  Northern  immigrant  is  worth  fifty  foreigners, 
and  have  smoothed  the  path  to  the  southward,  wiped  out  the 
place  where  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  used  to  be,  and  hung  out 
our  latchstring  to  you  and  yours. 

We  have  reached  the  point  that  marks  perfect  harmony  in 
every  household,  when  the  husband  confesses  that  the  pies 
which  his  wife  cooks  are  as  good  as  those  his  mother  used  to 
bake ;  and  we  admit  that  the  sun  shines  as  brightly  and  the  moon 
as  softly  as  it  did  "  before  the  war."  We  have  established  thrift 
in  the  city  and  country.  We  have  fallen  in  love  with  work.  We 
have  restored  comforts  to  homes  from  which  culture  and  elegance 
never  departed.  We  have  let  economy  take  root  and  spread 
among  us  as  rank  as  the  crab  grass  which  sprung  from  Sherman's 
cavalry  camps,  until  we  are  ready  to  lay  odds  on  the  Georgia 
Yankee,  as  he  manufactures  relics  of  the  battlefield  in  a  one-story 
shanty  and  squeezes  pure  olive  oil  out  of  his  cotton  seed,  against 
any  downeaster  that  ever  swapped  wooden  nutmegs  for  flannel 
sausages  in  the  valley  of  Vermont. 

*********** 

The  relations  of  the  Southern  people  with  the  negro  are  close 
and  cordial.  We  remember  with  what  fidelity  for  four  years  he 
guarded  our  defenseless  women  and  children,  whose  husbands  and 
fathers  were  fighting  against  his  freedom.  To  his  credit  be  it 
said  that  whenever  he  struck  a  blow  for  his  own  liberty  he  fought 
in  open  battle,  and  when  at  last  he  raised  his  black  and  humble 
hands  that  the  shackles  might  be  struck  off,  those  hands  were 
innocent  of  wrong  against  his  helpless  charges,  and  worthy  to  be 
taken  in  loving  grasp  by  every  man  who  honors  loyalty  and  devotion. 

Ruffians  have  maltreated  him,  rascals  have  misled  him,  philan 
thropists  established  a  bank  for  him,  but  the  South  with  the  North 
protest  against  injustice  to  this  simple  and  sincere  people.  To 

2G 


450  HENRY   WOOD  FIN  GRADY 

liberty  and  enfranchisement  is  as  far  as  the  law  can  carry  the 
negro.  The  rest  must  be  left  to  conscience  and  common  sense. 
It  should  be  left  to  those  among  whom  his  lot  is  cast,  with  whom 
he  is  indissolubly  connected,  and  whose  prosperity  depends  upon 
their  possessing  his  intelligent  sympathy  and  confidence.  Faith 
has  been  kept  with  him  in  spite  of  calumnious  assertions  to  the 
contrary  by  those  who  assume  to  speak  for  us,  or  by  frank  oppo 
nents.  Faith  will  be  kept  with  him  in  the  future,  if  the  South  holds 
her  reason  and  integrity. 

But  have  we  kept  faith  with  you?  In  the  fullest  sense,  yes. 
When  Lee  surrendered  —  I  don't  say  when  Johnston  surrendered, 
because  I  understand  he  still  alludes  to  the  time  when  he  met 
General  Sherman  last  as  the  time  when  he  "  determined  to 
abandon  any  further  prosecution  of  the  struggle"  —  when  Lee 
surrendered,  I  say,  and  Johnston  quit,  the  South  became,  and  has 
been,  loyal  to  the  Union.  We  fought  hard  enough  to  know  that 
we  were  whipped,  and  in  perfect  frankness  accepted  as  final  the 
arbitrament  of  the  sword  to  which  we  had  appealed.  The 
South  found  her  jewel  in  the  toad's  head  of  defeat.  The  shackles 
that  had  held  her  in  narrow  limitations  fell  forever  when  the 
shackles  of  the  negro  slave  were  broken. 

Under  the  old  regime  the  negroes  were  slaves  to  the  South,  the 
South  was  a  slave  to  the  system.  The  old  plantation,  with  its 
simple  police  regulations  and  its  feudal  habit,  was  the  only  type 
possible  under  slavery.  Thus  was  gathered  in  the  hands  of  a 
splendid  and  chivalric  oligarchy  the  substance  that  should  have 
been  diffused  among  the  people,  as  the  rich  blood,  under  certain 
artificial  conditions,  is  gathered  at  the  heart,  filling  that  with 
affluent  rapture,  but  leaving  the  body  chill  and  colorless. 

The  old  South  rested  everything  on  slavery  and  agriculture, 
unconscious  that  these  could  neither  give  nor  maintain  healthy 
growth.  The  new  South  presents  a  perfect  Democracy,  the  oli 
garchs  leading  in  the  popular  movement  —  asocial  system  com 
pact  and  closely  knitted,  less  splendid  on  the  surface  but  stronger 
at  the  core ;  a  hundred  farms  for  every  plantation,  fifty  homes  for 
every  palace,  and  a  diversified  industry  that  meets  the  complex 
needs  of  this  complex  age. 


THE  NEW  SOUTH  451 

The  new  South  is  enamored  of  her  new  work.  Her  soul  is 
stirred  with  the  breath  of  a  new  life.  The  light  of  a  grander  day 
is  falling  fair  on  her  face.  She  is  thrilling  with  the  consciousness 
of  a  growing  power  and  prosperity.  As  she  stands  upright,  full- 
statured  and  equal  among  the  people  of  the  earth,  breathing  the 
keen  air  and  looking  out  upon  the  expanding  horizon,  she  under 
stands  that  her  emancipation  came  because  in  the  inscrutable  wis 
dom  of  God  her  honest  purpose  was  crossed  and  her  brave  armies 
were  beaten. 

This  is  said  in  no  spirit  of  time-serving  or  apology.  The  South 
has  nothing  for  which  to  apologize.  She  believes  that  the  late 
struggle  between  the  States  was  war  and  not  rebellion,  revolution 
and  not  conspiracy,  and  that  her  convictions  were  as  honest  as 
yours.  I  should  be  unjust  to  the  dauntless  spirit  of  the  South  and 
to  my  own  convictions  if  I  did  not  make  this  plain  in  this  presence. 
The  South  has  nothing  to  take  back.  In  my  native  town  of  Athens 
is  a  monument  that  crowns  its  central  hills  —  a  plain,  white  shaft. 
Deep  cut  into  its  shining  side  is  a  name  dear  to  me  above  the 
names  of  men,  that  of  a  brave  and  simple  man  who  died  in  a 
brave  and  simple  faith.  Not  for  all  the  glories  of  New  England  — 
from  Plymouth  Rock  all  the  way  —  would  I  exchange  the  heritage 
he  left  me  in  his  soldier's  death.  To  the  feet  of  that  shaft  I  shall 
send  my  children's  children  to  reverence  him  who  ennobled  their 
name  with  his  heroic  blood.  But,  sir,  speaking  from  the  shadow 
of  that  memory,  which  I  honor  as  I  do  nothing  else  on  earth,  I  say 
that  the  cause  in  which  he  suffered  and  for  which  he  gave  his  life 
was  adjudged  by  higher  and  fuller  wisdom  than  his  or  mine,  and  I 
am  glad  that  the  omniscient  God  held  the  balance  of  battle  in  His 
Almighty  Hand,  and  that  human  slavery  was  swept  forever  from 
American  soil  —  the  American  Union  saved  from  the  wreck  of  war. 

This  message,  Mr.  President,  comes  to  you  from  consecrated 
ground.  Every  foot  of  the  soil  about  the  city  in  which  I  live  is 
sacred  as  a  battle-ground  of  the  republic.  Every  hill  that  invests 
it  is  hallowed  to  you  by  the  blood  of  your  brothers  who  died  for 
your  victory,  and  doubly  hallowed  to  us  by  the  blood  of  those  who 
died  hopeless,  but  undaunted,  in  defeat  —  sacred  soil  to  all  of  us, 
rich  with  memories  that  make  us  purer  and  stronger  and  better, 


452  HENRY   WOODFIN  GRADY 

silent  but  stanch  witnesses  in  its  red  desolation  of  the  matchless 
valor  of  American  hearts  and  the  deathless  glory  of  American  arms 
—  speaking  an  eloquent  witness,  in  its  white  peace  and  prosperity, 
to  the  indissoluble  union  of  American  States  and  the  imperishable 
brotherhood  of  the  American  people. 

Now  what  answer  has  New  England  to  this  message  ?  Will  she 
permit  the  prejudice  of  war  to  remain  in  the  hearts  of  the  con 
querors,  when  it  has  died  in  the  hearts  of  the  conquered? 
Will  she  transmit  this  prejudice  to  the  next  generation,  that 
in  their  hearts,  which  never  felt  the  generous  ardor  of  conflict, 
it  may  perpetuate  itself?  Will  she  withhold,  save  in  strained 
courtesy,  the  hand  which,  straight  from  his  soldier's  heart,  Grant 
offered  to  Lee  at  Appomattox?  Will  she  make  the  vision  of  a  re 
stored  and  happy  people,  which  gathered  above  the  couch  of  your 
dying  captain,  rilling  his  heart  with  grace,  touching  his  lips  with 
praise  and  glorifying  his  path  to  the  grave  ;  will  she  make  this  vision, 
on  which  the  last  sigh  of  his  expiring  soul  breathed  a  benediction, 
a  cheat  and  a  delusion?  If  she  does,  the  South,  never  abject  in 
asking  for  comradeship,  must  accept  with  dignity  its  refusal  j  but 
if  she  does  not — if  she  accepts  with  frankness  and  sincerity  this 
message  of  good  will  and  friendship,  then  will  the  prophecy  of 
Webster,  delivered  in  this  very  Society  forty  years  ago,  amid  tre 
mendous  applause,  be  verified  in  its  fullest  and  final  sense,  when 
he  said  :  "Standing  hand  to -hand  and  clasping  hands,  we  should 
remain  united  as  we  have  for  sixty  years,  citizens  of  the  same 
country,  members  of  the  same  government,  united  all,  united  now, 
and  united  forever.  There  have  been  difficulties,  contentions,  and 
controversies,  but  I  tell  you  that  in  my  judgment 

" '  Those  opposed  eyes, 

Which,  like  the  meteors  of  a  troubled  heaven, 
All  of  one  nature,  of  one  substance  bred, 
Did  lately  meet  in  th'  intestine  shock, 
Shall  now,  in  mutual,  well-beseeming  ranks 
March  all  one  way.'  "  l 

i  Cf.  "  i  Henry  IV,"  I,  i,  9-15. 


THE  BURIAL    OF  GAYARRE  453 


MISS   GRACE   ELIZABETH    KING 

[BORN  in  New  Orleans  in  1852,  the  daughter  of  a  prominent  lawyer.  She 
was  educated  at  home  and  in  the  French  schools  of  New  Orleans,  and  began 
her  career  by  contributing  sketches  of  Creole  life  to  The  New  Princeton  Review 
which  formed  the  basis  of  her  novel  "Monsieur  Motte  "  (1888).  "Tales  of 
Time  and  Place"  (1888),  "Balcony  Stories"  (1893),  and  other  fiction  fol 
lowed,  but  of  late  she  has  rather  given  herself  to  historical  work,  having  pub 
lished  a  life  of  Lemoine,  the  founder  of  New  Orleans  (1892),  a  descriptive 
volume  on  that  city  — "New  Orleans,  the  Place  and  the  People"  (1895)  — 
and  an  account  of  the  adventures  of  De  Soto  and  his  men  (1898).  Miss  King 
has  also  been  Secretary  of  the  Louisiana  Historical  Society,  and  in  1903  she 
contributed  a  sketch  of  Gayarre  to  a  new  edition  of  the  latter's  well-known 
history.  For  sympathetic  criticism  see  the  essay  by  President  Henry  N. 
Snyder  of  Wofford  College  in  "  Southern  Writers,"  Vol.  II.] 


THE  BURIAL  OF  GAYARRE1 

[FROM  "NEW  ORLEANS,  THE  PLACE  AND  THE  PEOPLE."     1895.] 

THE  old  St.  Louis  cemetery  is  closed  now.  It  opens  its  gates 
only  at  the  knock  of  an  heir,  so  to  speak ;  gives  harbourage  only 
to  those  who  can  claim  a  resting-place  by  the  side  of  an  ancestor. 
Between  All  Saints  and  All  Saints,  its  admittances  are  not  a  few, 
and  the  registry  volumes  are  still  being  added  to ;  the  list  of 
names,  in  the  first  crumbling  old  tome,  is  still  being  repeated, 
over  and  over  again ;  some  of  them  so  old  and  so  forgotten  in  the 
present  that  death  has  no  oblivion  to  add  to  them.  Indeed,  we 
may  say  they  live  only  in  the  death  register. 

Not  a  year  has  gone  by  since,  on  a  January 2  day,  one  of  the 
bleakest  winter  days  the  city  had  known  for  half  a  century,  a  file 
of  mourners  followed  one  of  the  city's  oldest  children,  and  one  of 
the  cemetery's  most  ancient  heirs,  to  his  last  resting-place  by  the 
side  of  a  grandfather.  The  silver  crucifix  gleamed  fitfully  ahead, 
appearing  and  disappearing  as  it  led  the  way  in  the  maze  of  irreg- 

1  Copyright,  1895,  by  The  Macmillan  Co.  2  Really  in  February,  1895. 


454  MISS   GRACE  ELIZABETH  KING 

ularly  built  tombs,  through  pathways,  hollowed  to  a  furrow,  by  the 
footsteps  of  the  innumerable  funeral  processions  that  had  followed 
the  dead  since  the  first  burials  there.  The  chanting  of  the  priests 
winding  in  and  out  after  the  crucifix,  fell  on  the  ear  in  detached 
fragments,  rising  and  dropping  as  the  tombs  closed  in  or  opened 
out  behind  them.  The  path,  with  its  sharp  turns,  was  at  times 
impassable  to  the  coffin,  and  it  had  to  be  lifted  above  the  tombs 
and  borne  in  the  air,  on  a  level  with  the  crucifix.  With  its  heavy 
black  draperies,  its  proportions  in  the  grey  humid  atmosphere 
appeared  colossal,  magnified,  and  transfigured  with  the  ninety-one 
years  of  life  inside.  It  was  Charles  Gayarre  being  conveyed  to 
the  tomb  of  M.  de  BoreV  the  historian  of  Louisiana  making  his 
last  bodily  appearance  on  earth  —  in  the  corner  of  earth  he  had 
loved  so  well  and  so  poetically. 

Woman  and  mother  as  she  ever  appeared  in  life  to  the  loving 
imagination  of  her  devoted  son,  it  was  but  fitting  that  New  Orleans 
should  herself  head  the  file  of  mourners  and  weep  bitterly  at  the 
tomb ;  for  that  she  lives  at  all  in  that  best  of  living  worlds,  the 
world  of  history,  romance,  and  poetry,  she  owes  to  him  whom 
brick  and  mortar  were  shutting  out  forever  from  human  eyes. 
As  a  youth,  he  consecrated  his  first  ambitions  to  her;  through 
manhood,  he  devoted  his  pen  to  her;  old,  suffering,  bereft  by 
misfortune  of  his  ancestral  heritage,  and  the  fruit  of  his  prime's 
vigour  and  industry,  he  yet  stood  ever  her  courageous  knight,  to 
defend  her  against  the  aspersions  of  strangers,  the  slanders  of 
traitors.  He  held  her  archives  not  only  in  his  memory  but  in 
his  heart,  and  while  he  lived,  none  dared  make  public  aught  about 
her  history  except  with  his  vigilant  form  in  the  line  of  vision. 

The  streets  of  the  vieux  carre?  through  which  he  gambolled 
as  a  schoolboy,  and  through  which  his  hearse  had  slowly  rolled  ; 
the  cathedral  in  which  he  was  baptized,  and  in  which  his  requiem 
was  sung :  and  the  old  cemetery,  the  resting-place  of  his  ances 
tors,  parents,  and  forbears,  and  the  sanctuary  in  which  his  imagina- 

1  Professor  Fortier  informs  the  editor  that  M.  Etienne  de  Bore,  Gayarre's  grand 
father,  was  the  first  mayor  of  New  Orleans,  and  the  first  successful  sugar  manu 
facturer  of  Louisiana. 

2  Old  square. 


DE   SO  TO   AND  ATAHUALPA  455 

tion  ever  found  inspiration  and  courage  —  they  gave  much  to  his 
life  :  but  his  life  gave  also  much  to  them.  And  the  human  eyes 
looking  out  through  their  sadness  of  personal  bereavement  from 
the  carriages  of  the  funeral  cortege,  saw  in  them  a  thousand  signs 
(according  to  the  pathetic  fallacy  of  humanity)  of  like  sadness  and 
bereavement. 

Thus  it  is,  that  one  beholden  to  him  for  a  long  life's  endowment 
of  affection,  help,  and  encouragement,  judges  it  meet  that  a  chron 
icle  begun  under  auspices,  to  which  he  contributed  so  richly  from 
his  memory,  and  of  whose  success  he  was  so  tenderly  solicitous, 
should  end,  as  it  began,  with  a  tribute  to  his  memory  and  name.1 

DE   SOTO   AND   ATAHUALPA2 

[FROM  "DE  SOTO  AND  HIS  MEN  IN  THE  LAND  OF  FLORIDA."   1898.] 

AN  unknown  youth  of  sixteen,  the  son  of  an  obscure,  impecu 
nious  hidalgo  of  Villanueva  de  Barcarrota,  with  no  possession  of  his 
own,  as  the  saying  went,  but  his  sword,  no  other  recommendations 
than  his  valour  and  good  qualities,  he  set  out  from  Spain,  one  of 
the  thousand  of  motley  adventurers  that  followed  the  new  governor, 
Pedrarias  d'Avila,  to  Darien.  Twenty  years  later  he  returned 
a  conqueror  of  Peru,  and  rich  with  fame  and  fortune ;  the  lieuten 
ant  general  and  right  hand  of  Pizarro,  captor  of  Atahualpa  and 
one  of  the  spoilers  of  the  golden  city  of  Cuzco  ;  his  name  standing 
only  after  the  two  Pizarros  in  the  list  of  the  division  of  the  prizes; 
and  young  still,  still  in  the  prime  of  life  and  enjoyment,  and  good 
looking  and  unmarried,  withal.  Pizarro,  even  Cortez  himself, 
was  held  by  not  a  few  in  Spain  to  have  but  a  closing  vista  of  life 
in  comparison  with  the  career  opening  before  him.  Of  medium 
height,  a  figure  that  appeared  as  well  on  foot  as  on  horseback, 
dark  complexion,  regular  features,  expressive  eyes,  noble  address, 
he  looked  the  cavalier  and  soldier  he  had  proved  himself  to  be ; 
inexorable  of  will,  inexhaustible  of  resources,  cool  and  daring  in 
battle,  prudent  and  subtle  at  the  council  board.  He  was  by 

1  Miss  King's  book  was  dedicated  "  To  the  memory  of  Charles  Gayarre." 

2  Copyright,  1898,  by  The  Macmillan  Co. 


456  MISS   GRACE  ELIZABETH  KING 

common  consent  reputed  to  be  the  best  horseman  in  the  Peruvian 
army,  and  always  excepting  the  incomparable  Pizarro  himself,  also 
the  best  lancer  in  it,  his  lance  being  ever  reckoned  equal  to  any 
ten  of  the  best.  He  was  in  truth  the  first  Spaniard  —  and  his 
horse,  the  first  of  those  fateful  animals  that  the  unfortunate  Inca 
beheld  —  if  he  beheld  them. 

The  story  of  the  celebrated  interview  came  with  De  Soto  to 
Spain,  but  its  truth  was  discredited  then,  as  it  is  now.  Sent  as 
envoy  to  Atahualpa,  in  Caxamalca,  De  Soto  found  the  Inca,  in  all 
his  sacred  majesty,  seated  on  a  throne,  surrounded  by  attendants, 
awaiting  him.  The  glittering  troop  of  lancers  galloped  to  the  spot 
and  halted.  Atahualpa's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  ground.  The 
troop  passed  and  repassed  before  him ;  still  he  did  not  raise  his 
head,  nor  would  he  look  at  the  envoy  nor  receive  his  message  nor 
answer  him.  An  attendant  looked,  listened,  and  answered  for 
him.  Stung  by  the  contemptuous  disdain,  De  Soto  spurred  his 
horse  and  curveted  and  pranced  the  animal  so  close  to  the  throne 
that  the  hoofs  almost  grazed  the  royal  face.  The  Peruvian 
attendants  fled  in  terror  from  the  great,  strange  beast.  Atahualpa 
then  raised  his  eyes  and  spoke.  He  commanded  the  attendants 
to  be  put  to  death. 

CABEZA   DE   VACA 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

CABEZA  DE  VACA  l  had  made  his  appearance  at  Valladolid,  too, 
after  his  adventures  in  America.  There  was  no  splendour  of  fame 
and  wealth  about  him  ;  nothing  of  the  conqueror ;  his  return  to 
his  native  land  was  in  striking  contrast  to  De  Soto's.  He,  too, 
guided  by  the  lodestar  of  his  hopes,  had  gone  to  the  New  World 
in  quest  of  his  future.  He  had  his  future  but  not  his  fortune ; 
the  expedition  had  been  a  fool's  errand,  and  he  had  come  back 
broken  in  health  and  in  wealth.  Massacre,  ship-wreck,  starva 
tion,  captivity,  and  hopeless  wanderings  through  vast  unknown 

1  One  of  the  four  survivors  of  the  expedition  of  Narvaez  that  left  Spain  in  1527. 
He  had  many  adventures  among  the  Indians,  and  his  description  of  them  is 
important  to  students. 


IRWIN  RUSSELL  457 

savage  territories,  this  was  the  tale  he  brought  back  to  Spain. 
Pamphilo  de  Narvaez  had  been  his  leader,  Florida  his  El 
Dorado.  Ten  years  afterwards  he  and  three  companions  made 
their  appearance  on  the  frontiers  of  Mexico,  the  sole  survivors 
of  the  six  hundred  men  who  had  landed  on  the  coast  of  Florida. 
Nevertheless  it  was  observed  at  court  that  in  his  relation  of  his 
adventures,  Cabeza  de  Vaca  every  now  and  then  would  arrest  his 
words  suddenly,  as  if  on  guard  against  revealing  secrets,  —  or 
would  add  such  phrases  as  "The  rest  which  I  saw  I  leave  for 
conference  between  His  Majesty  and  myself."  To  kinsmen  who 
urged  him  to  be  more  explicit  he  would  say  that  an  oath  bound 
him  revealing  what  he  saw,  but  that  Florida  was  the  richest 
country  in  the  world ;  and  he  gave  out  that  he  was  determined 
to  beg  the  conquest  of  the  country  from  the  emperor.  The 
device  is  a  well-known  one,  but  as  long  as  the  world  is  peopled, 
its  success  may  be  relied  upon. 


IRWIN    RUSSELL 

[IRWIN  RUSSELL  was  born  of  mingled  Virginia  and  New  England  stock,  in 
Port  Gibson,  Mississippi,  June  3,  1853;  and  died  in  New  Orleans,  December 
23,  1878.  His  early  years  were  spent  in  St.  Louis;  during  the  civil  war  his 
parents  returned  to  Port  Gibson;  after  it  the  boy  was  sent  to  St.  Louis  Uni 
versity  where  he  showed  much  aptitude  for  study  and  was  graduated  in  1869. 
He  was  very  fond  of  mathematics,  but  chose  law  for  a  profession,  being  ad 
mitted  to  the  Mississippi  bar  at  the  age  of  nineteen  by  a  special  act  of  the 
legislature.  But  he  was  no  plodder  —  preferring  to  rove  about,  to  try  various 
trades  like  printing,  and  to  indulge  his  taste  for  rare  books.  Amusing  anec 
dotes  are  told  of  him,  all  illustrating  a  kindly,  erratic  nature  and  varied  tal 
ents.  He  was  a  caricaturist,  a  musician,  a  lover  of  nature,  a  wide  reader, 
particularly  of  poetry.  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  perceive  the  artistic  pos 
sibilities  of  the  negro  dialect  and  to  appreciate  the  pathos  and  humor  of  negro 
character,  his  poems,  such  as  "Christmas  Night  in  the  Quarters,"  being 
among  the  earliest  proofs  that  the  New  South  had  found  a  voice  in  literature. 
It  was  his  fate,  however,  scarcely  to  enter  upon  the  promised  land  of  literary 
achievement.  During  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  of  1878  he  lost  his  father  and 
wore  himself  out  with  heroic  nursing.  Thrown  on  his  own  resources,  he  started 
for  New  York  where  he  made  friends  among  literary  men.  They  nursed  him 
through  a  dangerous  fever,  but  could  not  prevent  him,  when  he  was  convales- 


453  IRWIN  RUSSELL 

cent,  from  yielding  to  his  passion  for  roving.  He  wandered  to  the  docks, 
shipped  on  a  vessel  for  New  Orleans,  and  worked  his  way  there  as  a  coal 
heaver.  He  got  a  place  on  the  staff  of  the  New  Orleans  Times,  and,  as  always, 
made  fast  friends  who  grieved  to  see  how  his  love  of  drink  was  dragging  him 
to  his  grave.  Soon  the  life  of  brilliant  promise  was  ended  in  the  house  of  a 
poor  Irish  woman  who  took  him  in  for  a  pittance  and  tenderly  nursed  him 
during  his  delirium.  Nine  years  later  his  dialect  and  other  poems  were  col 
lected,  and  though  they  make  but  a  slender  volume,  it  seems  likely  that  they 
will  preserve  the  memory  of  his  name  and  of  his  pathetic  life.  It  is  worth 
while  to  remark  that  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  Russell's  negro  dialect 
poems  are  alone  worth  attention.  He  wrote  a  few  serious  poems  of  promise, 
was  humorous  in  plain  English  and  in  so-called  Irish,  and  had  a  remarkable 
gift  for  catching  the  style  of  oth'er  writers  as  is  clearly  proved  by  his  excellent 
epistle  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  Robert  Burns  to  the  philanthropist, 
John  Howard.  For  criticism,  see  Charles  C.  Marble's  articles  in  The  Critic 
for  October  27  and  November  3,  1888,  and  Baskervill,  "Southern  Writers"1 
(1898).  See  also  H.  C.  Bunner's  good  sonnet  in  "Airs  from  Arcady."] 

THE   BANJO2 
[FROM  "  POEMS  BY  IRWIN   RUSSELL."     1888.] 

Go  'way,  fiddle  !  folks  is  tired  o'  hearin'  you  a-squawkin'. 
Keep  silence  fur  yo'  betters  !  —  don't  you  heah  de  banjo  talkin'? 
About  de  'possum's  tail  she's  gwine  to  lecter  —  ladies,  listen  !  — 
About  de  ha'r  whut  isn't  dar,  an'  why  de  ha'r  is  missin' : 

1  Baskervill  remarks  that  in  the  humorous  writings  of  Longstreet,  Thompson, 
and  others  of  their  school  "  the  negro  is  conspicuous  by  his  absence."    The  only 
notable  book  in  which  he  played  an  important  part  before  the  Civil  War  is  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin. "    This  is  true  enough  in  the  main,  but  there  are  indications  that  Poe, 
Kennedy,  and  Simms,  Mrs.  Oilman  and  other  writers,  were  not  altogether  blind  to 
the  picturesqueness  of  the  negro,  and  it  may  be  remembered  that  Thompson  in 
1860  in  "  The  Slaveholder  Abroad,  or  Billy  Buck's  Visit  with  his  Master  to  Eng 
land,"  although  much  of  the  book  was  serious  enough,  gave  the  negro  a  prominent 
place.    This  is  to  some   extent  true  of  Longstreet's  "  Master  William   Mitten " 
(1864),  parts  of  which  were  written  as  early  as  1849.     The  witty  Innis  Randolph  (of 
Virginia)  also  had  no  small  sense  of  the  value  of  the  negro  to  the  humorist,  as 
appears  from  his  poem  "  A  Fish  Story,"  which  the  curious  may  find  in  Davidson's 
"  Living  Writers  of  the  South  "  (1869).    Still,  the  tributes  paid  by  Mr.  Joel  Chand 
ler  Harris  and  Mr.  Thomas  Nelson  Page  to  Irwin  Russell  as  a  pioneer  delineator 
of  the  negro  character  are  thoroughly  deserved. 

2  Copyright,  1888,  by  the  Century  Company.     By  kind  permission  of  the  pub 
lishers.    The  extract  is  from  the  excellent  poem  "  Christmas  Night  in  the  Quar 
ters,"  which  was  first  published  in  Scribner's  Monthly,  January,  1878. 


THE  BANJO  459 

"Bar's  gwine  to  be  a'  oberflow,"  said  Noah,  lookin'  solemn  — 
Fur  Noah  tuk  de  "  Herald,"  an'  he  read  de  ribber  column  — 
An'  so  he  sot  his  hands  to  wuk  a-cl'arin'  timber-patches, 
An'  'lowed  he's  gwine  to  build  a  boat  to  beat  de  steamah  Natchez. 

Ol'  Noah  kep'  a-nailin'  an'  a-chippin'  an'  a-sawin' ; 
An'  all  de  wicked  neighbors  kep'  a-laughin'  an'  a-pshawin' ; 
But  Noah  didn't  min'  'em,  knowin'  whut  wuz  gwine  to  happen : 
An'  forty  days  an'  forty  nights  de  rain  it  kep'  a-drappin'. 

Now,  Noah  had  done  cotched  a  lot  ob  ebry  sort  o'  beas'es  — 
Ob  all  de  shbws  a-trabbelin',  it  beat  'em  all  to  pieces  ! 
He  had  a  Morgan1  colt  an'  sebral  head  o'  Jarsey  cattle  — 
An'  druv  'em  'board  de  Ark  as  soon's   he   heered   de   thunder 
rattle. 

Den  sech  anoder  fall  ob  rain  !  —  it  come  so  awful  hebby, 

De  ribber  riz  immejitly,  an'  busted  troo  de  lebbee ; 

De  people  all  wuz  drownded  out  —  'cep'  Noah  an'  de  critters, 

An'  men  he'd  hired  to  work  de  boat  —  an'  one  to  mix  de  bitters. 

De  Ark  she  kep'  a-sailin'  an'  a-sailin'  an1  a-sailin' ; 

De  lion  got  his  dander  up,  an'  like  to  bruk  de  palin' ; 

De  sarpints  hissed;   de  painters2  yelled;  tell,  whut  wid  all   de 

fussin', 
You  c'u'dn't  hardly  heah  de  mate  a-bossin'  'roun'  an'  cussin'. 

Now,  Ham,  de  only  nigger  whut  wuz  runnin'  on  de  packet, 
Got  lonesome  in  de  barber-shop,  an'  c'u'dn't  stan'  de  racket ; 
An'  so,  fur  to  amuse  he-se'f,  he  steamed  some  wood  an'  bent  it, 
An'  soon  he  had  a  banjo  made  —  de  fust  dat  wuz  invented. 

He  wet  de  ledder,  stretched  it  on ;  made  bridge  an'  screws  an' 

aprin' ; 

An'  fitted  in  a  proper  neck  —  'twuz  berry  long  an'  tap'rin' ; 
He  tuk  some  tin,  an'  twisted  him  a  thimble  fur  to  ring  it ; 
An'  den  de  mighty  question  riz  :  how  wuz  he  gwine  to  string  it? 

1  "  A  breed  of  large  draught  horses  "  (Weber) .  2  Panthers. 


460  IRWIN  RUSSELL 

De  'possum  had  as  fine  a  tail  as  dis  dat  I's  a-singin' ; 
De  ha'r's  so  long  an'  thick  an'  strong,  —  des  fit  fur  banjo-stringin' ; 
Dat  nigger  shaved  'em  off  as  short  as  wash-day-dinner  graces ; 
An'  sorted  ob  'em  by  de  size,  f  om  little  E's  to  basses. 

He  strung  her,  tuned  her,  struck  a  jig,  —  'twuz  "  Nebber  min'  de 

wedder,"  — 

She  soun'  like  forty- lebben  bands  a-playin'  all  togedder ; 
Some  went  to  pattin' ;  some  to  dancin' :  Noah  called  de  riggers ; 
An'  Ham  he  sot  an'  knocked  de  tune,  de  happiest  ob  niggers  ! 

Now,   sence    dat   time  —  it's   mighty   strange  —  dere's   not    de 

slightes'  showin' 

Ob  any  ha'r  at  all  upon  de  'possum's  tail  a-growin' ; 
An'  curi's,  too,  dat  nigger's  ways  :  his  people  nebber  los'  'em  — 
Fur  whar  you  finds  de  nigger  —  dar's  de  banjo  an'  de  'possum  ! 

NEBUCHADNEZZAR l 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

You,  Nebuchadnezzah,  whoa,  sah  ! 
Whar  is  you  tryin'  to  go,  sah? 
I'd  hab  you  fur  to  know,  sah, 

I's  a-holdin'  ob  de  lines. 
You  better  stop  dat  prancin' ; 
You's  pow'ful  fond  ob  dancin', 
But  I'll  bet  my  yeah's  advancin' 

Dat  I'll  cure  you  ob  yo'  shines. 

Look  heah,  mule  !     Better  min'  out ; 
Fus'  t'ing  you  know  you'll  fin'  out 
How  quick  I'll  wear  dis  line  £>ut 

On  yo'  ugly,  stubbo'n  back. 
You  needn't  try  to  steal  up 
An'  lif  dat  precious  heel  up ; 

1  Copyright,  1888,  by  the  Century  Company.    By  kind  permission  of  the  pub 
lishers. 


NORVERN  PEOPLE  461 

You's  got  to  plough  dis  fiel'  up, 
You  has,  sah,  fur  a  fac'. 

Bar,  dafs  de  way  to  do  it ! 
He's  comin'  right  down  to  it ; 
Jes  watch  him  ploughin'  troo  it ! 

Dis  nigger  ain't  no  fool. 
Some  folks  dey  would  'a'  beat  him ; 
Now,  dat  would  only  heat  him  — 
I  know  jes  how  to  treat  him  : 

You  mus'  reason  wid  a  mule. 

He  minds  me  like  a  nigger. 
If  he  wuz  only  bigger 
He'd  fotch  a  mighty  figger, 

He  would,  I  tell  you  !     Yes,  sah  ! 
See  how  he  keeps  a-clickin' ! 
He's  as  gentle  as  a  chickin, 
An'  nebber  thinks  o'  kickin'  — 

Whoa  dar  /    Nebuchadnezzah  / 

****** 

Is  dis  heah  me,  or  not  me  ? 
Or  is  de  debbil  got  me  ? 
Wuz  dat  a  canon  shot  me? 

Hab  I  laid  heah  more'n  a  week? 
Dat  mule  do  kick  amazin'  ! 
De  beast  wuz  sp'iled  in  raisin'  — 
But  now  I  'spect  he's  grazin' 

On  de  oder  side  de  creek. 


NORVERN   PEOPLE1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

DEM  folks  in  de  Norf  is  de  beatin'est  lot ! 
Wid  all  de  brass  buttons  an'  fixin's  dey  got  — 

1  Copyright,  1888,  by  the  Century  Company.    By  kind  permission  of  the  publishers. 


462  I R IV IN  RUSSELL 

You  needn't  tole  me  !  —  dey  all  dresses  in  blue : 
I  seed  'em  de  time  'at  Grant's  army  come  froo. 

Dey  libs  up  de  country,  whar  ellyphunts  grows, 
Somewhar  'bout  de  head  ob  de  ribber,  I  s'pose ; 
Whar  snow  keeps  a-drappin',  spring,  winter,  an'  fall, 
An'  summer-time  don't  nebber  git  dar  at  all. 

Up  dar  in  dey  town  dar's  a  mighty  great  hole 
Dey  dug  fur  to  git  at  de  silber  an'  goF  : 
I  reckon  heah  lately  it  mus'  ha'  cabed  in  — 
I  wish  I  c'u'd  see  a  good  two-bits  ag'in  ! 

Dey  puts  up  supplies  for  us  Christuns  to  eat,  — 
De  whisky,  de  flouah,  de  meal,  an'  de  meat ; 
Dey's  dreffle  big-feelin',  an'  makes  a  great  fuss, 
But  dey  cain't  git  along  widout  wukin'  for  us. 

I  wouldn't  be  dem,  not  fur  all  you  c'u'd  gib : 
Dey  nebber  tas'e  'possum  as  long  as  dey  lib  ! 
Dey  w'u'dn't  know  gumbo,  ef  put  in  dey  mouf — 
Why  don't  dey  all  sell  out  an'  come  to  de  Souf  ? 

But  lawsy  !  dey's  ign'ant  as  ign'ant  kin  be, 
An'  ain't  got  de  presence  ob  min'  fur  to  see 
Dat  oF  Marsissippi's  jes  ober  de  fence 
Dot  runs  aroun'  hebben's  sarcumferymence  ! 

Now,  us  dat  is  fabored  wid  wisdom  an'  grace, 
An'  had  de  fus'  pick  fur  a  'sirable  place, 
We  ought  fur  to  'member  de  duty  we  owes, 
To  sheer  wid  our  brudders  as  fur  as  it  goes. 

So  sometime  in  chu'ch  I's  a-gwine  to  serjes 
Dat  some-un  be  sent  what  kin  talk  to  'em  bes'  — 
(An'  mebbe  dat's  me)  fur  to  open  deir  eyes, 
Recomstruc  de  pore  critters,  an'  help  'em  to  rise. 


THOMAS  NELSON  PAGE  463 

We'll  fetch  'em  down  heah,  de  las'  one  ob  de  batch, 
An'  treat  'em  like  gemmen,  an'  rent  'em  a  patch  — 
Why,  dat's  de  Merlennium !     Dat's  what  it  am ; 
An'  us  is  de  lion,  an'  dey  is  de  lamb  ! 


THE   CEMETERY1 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  STAND  within  this  solemn  place 
And  think  of  days  gone  by ; 

I  think  of  many  an  old-time  face ; 
Here's  where  those  faces  lie. 

I  think  of  when,  what  time  God  please, 
The  hour  shall  come  to  me, 

That,  covered  by  the  clay,  like  these, 
My  face  shall  masked  be. 

No  marble  monument  will  rise 

Above  that  grave  of  mine  ; 
No  loving  friends  will  wipe  their  eyes 

When  life  I  shall  resign. 

But  when  I  leave  my  life  —  have  left 

My  every  present  care  — 
I'll  find  a  home  of  care  bereft ; 

My  friends  are  living  there  ! 


THOMAS   NELSON   PAGE 

[BORN,  of  distinguished  Virginia  stock,  at  Oakland  Plantation,  Hanover 
County,  Virginia,  April  23, 1853.  He  received  his  academic  education  at  Wash 
ington  and  Lee  University  (1869-1872),  graduated  in  law  at  the  University  of 
Virginia  (1874),  and  practised  in  Richmond,  from  1875  to  1893.  He  had 
meanwhile  made  himself  famous  by  stories  of  life  in  Virginia,  before  and 

1  Copyright,  1888,  by  the  Century  Company.    By  kind  permission  of  the  publishers. 


464  THOMAS  NELSON  PAGE 

during  the  war,  such  as  "  Marse  Chan,"  which  appeared,  after  waiting  nearly 
four  years  for  publication,  in  magazine  form  in  1884.  He  gathered  his  stories 
in  1887  under  the  title  "  In  Ole  Virginia,"  which  served  to  indicate  the 
important  role  played  in  them  by  the  old-time  negro.  "Two  Little  Con 
federates"  followed  in  1888,  and  the  same  year  Mr.  Page  brought  out,  with 
Mr.  Armistead  C.  Gordon,  a  lawyer  of  Staunton,  Virginia,  a  volume  of  dialect 
verses,  entitled  "  Befo'  de  War."  A  long  series  of  books  succeeded,  among 
others,  the  critical  and  historical  papers  collected  in  "  The  Old  South " 
(1892),  and  "Red  Rock"  (1898),  an  elaborate  novel  of  Reconstruction 
days,  which  has  been  highly  praised.  "Gordon  Keith"  (1903)  and  "The 
Negro:  the  Southerner's  Problem"  (1904)  are  Mr.  Page^  latest  impor 
tant  publications.  He  has  lectured  and  read  from  his  own  writings,  —  his 
early  readings  with  Mr.  F.  Hopkinson  Smith  having  added  much  to  his 
popularity,  —  has  received  several  honorary  degrees,  and  at  present  resides 
in  Washington,  D.C.,  where  he  devotes  himself  to  writing.  For  apprecia 
tive  criticism,  see  the  essay  by  Professor  Edwin  Mims  in  "  Southern  Writers," 
Vol.  II.] 


THE   SOUTH   AND   THE   HISTORIAN   IT  NEEDS1 
[FROM  "THE  OLD  SOUTH,  ESSAYS  SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL."  1892.] 

A  PROOF  of  the  deep  sincerity  of  their  principles  is  the  una 
nimity  with  which  the  South  accepted  the  issue.  From  the  mo 
ment  that  war  was  declared,  the  whole  people  were  in  arms.  It 
was  not  merely  the  secessionist  who  enlisted,  but  the  stanch  Union 
man ;  not  simply  the  slave-holder,  but  the  mountaineer ;  the  poor 
white  fought  as  valorously  as  the  great  land-owner ;  the  women 
fought  as  well  as  the  men ;  for,  whilst  the  men  were  in  the  field 
the  women  and  children  at  home  waited  and  starved  without  a 
murmur  and  without  a  doubt. 

Some  years  ago  I  was  shown  a  worn  and  faded  letter  written 
on  old  Confederate  paper  with  pale  Confederate  ink.  It  had 
been  taken  from  the  breast-pocket  of  a  dead  private  soldier  of  a 
Georgia  regiment,  after  one  of  the  battles  around  Richmond.  It 
was  from  his  sweetheart.  They  were  plain  and  illiterate  people, 

1  Copyright,  1892,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  By  kind  permission  of  the  pub 
lishers  and  the  author.  The  extract  forms  the  close  of  the  essay  on  "The  Want 
of  a  History  of  the  Southern  People." 


THE  SOUTH  AND    THE  HISTORIAN  IT  NEEDS     465 

for  it  was  badly  written  and  badly  spelled.  In  it  she  told  him 
that  she  loved  him  ;  that  she  had  always  loved  him  since  they  had 
gone  to  school  together,  in  the  little  log  schoolhouse  in  the  woods ; 
that  she  was  sorry  she  had  always  treated  him  so  badly,  and  that 
now,  if  he  would  get  a  furlough  and  come  home,  she  would  marry 
him. 

Then,  as  if  fearful  that  this  temptation  might  prove  too  strong 
to  be  resisted,  there  was  a  little  postscript  scrawled  across  the  blue 
Confederate  paper  :  "  Don't  come  without  a  furlough,  for  if  you 
don't  come  honorable,  I  won't  marry  you." 

Was  this  the  spirit  of  rebellion?  A  whole  people  was  in  arms. 
A  nation  had  arisen.  It  was  the  apotheosis  of  a  race. 

When  Varro  lost  the  battle  of  Cannae,1  where  the  flower  of  the 
Roman  knighthood  was  cut  down,  the  Roman  Senate  voted  thanks 
to  the  consul,  quod  de  republica  non  desperasset* ;  when  Lee,  with 
tattered  standards  and  broken  battalions,  recrossed  the  Potomac, 
after  Gettysburg,  the  South  exhibited  greater  devotion  to  him 
than  when  he  forced  Burnside  staggering  back  across  the  Rappa- 
hannock.3  When  he  abandoned  Richmond  and  started  on  his 
march  southward,  the  South  still  trusted  him  as  implicitly  as 
when,  with  consummate  generalship  and  a  loss  to  the  enemy  of 
more  than  his  own  entire  army,  he  had  at  Spottsylvania  wedged 
Grant  from  his  prey.4 

That  last  retreat  surpasses  in  heroism  the  retreat  of  the  Ten 
Thousand.  There  was  but  a  handful  left  of  the  army  of  Northern 
Virginia.  The  attrition  of  four  years  of  war  had  worn  away  the 
heroic  army.  Starvation  had  destroyed  a  part  of  what  the  sword 
had  left,  and  had  shrunken  the  forms  of  the  small  remnant  j  but 
the  glorious  courage,  the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  Southern  sol 
diery  gleamed  forth ;  and  it  had  no  more  thought  of  surrender 
then  than  when  it  had  first  burst  into  flame  on  the  victorious  field 
of  Bull  Run.  It  was  the  crystallization  of  Southern  courage. 

1  Won  by  Hannibal  in  216  B.C. 

2  Because  he  had  not  despaired  of  the  republic. 

8  The  reference  is  to  the  great  Confederate  victory  won  at  Fredericksburg  on 
December  13,  1862. 

4  In  the  desperate  fighting  from  the  8th  to  the  2Oth  of  May,  1864. 
2H 


466  THOMAS  NELSON  PAGE 

Across  the  desolated  land  it  retired  like  a  wounded  lion,  sore 
pressed  by  unnumbered  foes  —  stopping  only  to  fight,  for  there 
was  no  rest  nor  food,  until  at  last  on  that  fateful  morning  it  found 
the  horizon  filled  with  steel.  It  was  hemmed  in  by  the  enemy, 
by  the  best  equipped  army  that  has  stood  on  American  soil,  led 
by  one  of  the  greatest  generals,  the  magnanimous  Grant,  and 
the  Southern  general  saw  that  resistance  was  annihilation.  Even 
in  that  hour  of  its  extremity,  the  one  cry  of  the  little  band  to  the 
adored  Lee  was  to  be  led  against  them  once  more. 

The  chronicler,  who  can  see  in  this  only  the  perverseness  of 
rebellion,  lacks  the  essential  spirit  of  the  historian.  The  politician 
who  can  discuss  it  with  derision  or  can  view  it  with  indifference 
will  never  rise  to  the  plane  of  statesmanship. 

The  deliberate  and  persistent  endeavor  to  hold  in  contempt  the 
people  that  could  produce  so  sublime  a  spectacle  and  to  forbid 
them  participation  in  the  Union,  is  a  greater  wrong  to  the  Nation 
than  was  secession.  It  is  an  attempt  to  keep  alienated  from  the 
Union  a  race  that  has  ever  hated  with  fervor,  but  loved  with  pas 
sion  ;  of  a  race  that  withdrew  from  the  Union  under  a  belief  in  a 
principle  so  sincere,  so  deep,  that  it  was  almost  idolatrous ;  of  a 
race  that  has  now  under  new  conditions  turned  to  the  Union  all 
the  devotion  which  under  different  teaching  and  conditions  was 
once  given  to  the  several  States;  devotion  which  when  directed 
against  the  Union  shook  it  to  its  foundation,  and  now  is  destined 
to  guard  it  and  preserve  it  throughout  its  existence. 

The  history  of  the  South  is  yet  to  be  written.  He  who  writes  it 
need  not  fear  for  his  reward.  Such  a  one  must  have  at  once  the 
instinct  of  the  historian  and  the  wisdom  of  the  philosopher.  He 
must  possess  the  talisman  that  shall  discover  truth  amid  all  the 
heaps  of  falsehood,  though  they  were  piled  upon  it  like  Pelion  on 
Ossa.  He  must  have  the  sagacity  to  detect  whatever  of  evil 
existed  in  the  civilization  he  shall  chronicle,  though  it  be  gleam 
ing  with  the  gilding  of  romance ;  he  must  have  the  fortitude  to 
resist  all  temptation  to  deflect  by  so  much  as  a  hair's  breadth  from 
the  absolute  and  the  inexorable  facts,  even  if  an  angel  should 
attempt  to  beguile  him.  He  must  know  and  tell  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  so  help  him,  God  ! 


THE   OLD   COLONEL  46? 

THE   OLD   COLONEL1 

[FROM  "THE  BURIAL  OF  THE  GUNS."     1894.] 

IT  is  just  at  this  point  that  he  suddenly  looms  up  to  me  as  a 
soldier  ;  the  relation  he  never  wholly  lost  to  me  afterwards,  though 
I  knew  him  for  many,  many  years  of  peace.  His  gray  coat  with 
the  red  facing  and  the  bars  on  the  collar ;  his  military  cap ;  his 
gray  flannel  shirt  —  it  was  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him  wear 
anything  but  immaculate  linen  —  his  high  boots ;  his  horse  capari 
soned  with  a  black,  high-peaked  saddle,  with  crupper  and  breast- 
girth,  instead  of  the  light  English  hunting-saddle  to  which  I  had 
been  accustomed,  all  come  before  me  now  as  if  it  were  but  the 
other  day.  I  remember  but  little  beyond  it,  yet  I  remember,  as 
if  it  were  yesterday,  his  leaving  home,  and  the  scenes  which  im 
mediately  preceded  it ;  the  excitement  created  by  the  news  of  the 
President's  call  for  troops ;  the  unanimous  judgment  that  it  meant 
war ;  the  immediate  determination  of  the  old  Colonel,  who  had 
hitherto  opposed  secession,  that  it  must  be  met;  the  suppressed 
agitation  on  the  plantation,  attendant  upon  the  tender  of  his  ser 
vices  and  the  Governor's  acceptance  of  them.  The  prompt  and 
continuous  work  incident  to  the  enlistment  of  the  men,  the  bustle 
of  preparation,  and  all  the  scenes  of  that  time,  come  before  me  now. 
It  turned  the  calm  current  of  the  life  of  an  old  and  placid  country 
neighborhood,  far  from  any  city  or  centre,  and  stirred  it  into  a 
boiling  torrent,  strong  enough,  or  fierce  enough  to  cut  its  way  and 
join  the  general  torrent  which  was  bearing  down  and  sweeping 
everything  before  it.  It  seemed  but  a  minute  before  the  quiet 
old  plantation,  in  which  the  harvest,  the  corn-shucking,  and  the 
Christmas  holidays  alone  marked  the  passage  of  the  quiet  seasons, 
and  where  a  strange  carriage  or  a  single  horseman  coming  down 
the  big  road  was  an  event  in  life,  was  turned  into  a  depot  of  war- 
supplies,  and  the  neighborhood  became  a  parade-ground.  The 
old  Colonel,  not  a  colonel  yet,  nor  even  a  captain,  except  by 

1  Copyright,  1894,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  By  kind  permission  of  the  pub 
lishers  and  the  author.  The  extract  is  from  the  title-story. 


468  THOMAS  NELSON  PAGE 

\ 

brevet,  was  on  his  horse  by  daybreak  and  off  on  his  rounds 
through  the  plantations  and  the  pines  enlisting  his  company. 
The  office  in  the  yard,  heretofore  one  in  name  only,  became  one 
now  in  reality,  and  a  table  was  set  out  piled  with  papers,  pens, 
ink,  books  of  tactics  and  regulation,  at  which  men  were  accepted 
and  enrolled.  Soldiers  seemed  to  spring  from  the  ground,  as  they 
did  from  the  sowing  of  the  dragon's  teeth  in  the  days  of  Cadmus. 
Men  came  up  the  high  road  or  down  the  paths  across  the  fields, 
sometimes  singly,  but  oftener  in  little  parties  of  two  or  three,  and, 
asking  for  the  Captain,  entered  the  office  as  private  citizens,  and 
came  out  soldiers  enlisted  for  the  war.  There  was  nothing  heard 
of  on  the  plantation  except  fighting ;  white  and  black,  all  were  at 
work,  and  all  were  eager ;  the  servants  contended  for  the  honor 
of  going  with  their  master ;  the  women  flocked  to  the  house  to 
assist  in  the  work  of  preparation,  cutting  out  and  making  under 
clothes,  knitting  socks,  picking  lint,  preparing  bandages,  and  sew 
ing  on  uniforms ;  for  many  of  the  men  who  had  enlisted  were  of 
the  poorest  class,  far  too  poor  to  furnish  anything  themselves,  and 
their  equipment  had  tor  be  contributed  mainly  by  wealthier  neigh 
bors.  The  work  was  carried  on  at  night  as  well  as  by  day,  for  the 
occasion  was  urgent.  Meantime  the  men  were  being  drilled  by 
the  Captain  and  his  lieutenants,  who  had  been  militia  officers  of 
old.  We  were  carried  to  see  the  drill  at  the  cross-roads,  and  a 
brave  sight  it  seemed  to  us  :  the  lines  marching  and  countermarch 
ing  in  the  field,  with  the  horses  galloping  as  they  wheeled  amid 
clouds  of  dust,  at  the  hoarse  commands  of  the  excited  officers,  and 
the  roadside  lined  with  spectators  of  every  age  and  condition.  I 
recall  the  arrival  of  the  messenger  one  night,  with  the  telegraphic 
order  to  the  Captain  to  report  with  his  company  at  "  Camp 
Lee  "  immediately ;  the  hush  in  the  parlor  that  attended  its  read 
ing  ;  then  the  forced  beginning  of  the  conversation  afterwards  in 
a  somewhat  strained  and  unnatural  key,  and  the  Captain's  quick 
and  decisive  outlining  of  his  plans. 

Within  the  hour  a  dozen  messengers  were  on  their  way  in  vari 
ous  directions  to  notify  the  members  of  the  command  of  the 
summons,  and  to  deliver  the  order  for  their  attendance  at  a  given 
point  next  day.  It  seemed  that  a  sudden  and  great  change  had 


THE   TYRANNY  OF  CASTE  469 

come.  It  was  the  actual  appearance  of  what  had  hitherto  only 
been  theoretical  —  war.  The  next  morning  the  Captain,  in  full  uni 
form,  took  leave  of  the  assembled  plantation,  with  a  few  solemn 
words  commending  all  he  left  behind  to  God,  and  galloped  away 
up  the  big  road  to  join  and  lead  his  battery  to  the  war,  and  to  be 
gone  just  four  years. 


WALTER   HINES   PAGE 

[BORN  at  Gary,  North  Carolina,  August  15,  1855,  a  descendant  of  the  Vir 
ginia  Pages.  He  was  educated  at  the  well-known  Bingham  School,  at  Trinity 
and  Randolph  Macon  colleges,  and  at  Johns  Hopkins  University,  where  he 
was  Fellow  in  Greek  (1876-1878).  After  teaching  a  little  in  Louisville,  he 
edited  a  paper  in  St.  Joseph,  Missouri.  Then  he  was  attached  to  the  New 
York  World,  founded  a  paper  in  Raleigh,  North  Carolina,  returned  to  New 
York  in  1883  for  work  on  The  Evening  Post,  and  left  that  for  a  position  on 
The  Forum.  He  edited  the  last-named  periodical  from  1890  to  1895,  resign 
ing  his  position  to  accept  employment  as  literary  adviser  to  Houghton? 
Mifflin  &  Co.  He  edited  The  Atlantic  Monthly  from  1896  to  1899  and 
then  became  a  member  of  the  publishing  firm  of  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.  in 
New  York,  and  in  1900  first  editor  of  The  World's  Work.  Mr.  Page  is  much 
interested  in  the  cause  of  good  government  and  especially  in  the  promotion 
of  education  in  the  South.  He  has  delivered  numerous  addresses,  two  of 
which  may  be  found,  along  with  the  title-essay,  in  his  "  Rebuilding  of  Old 
Commonwealths,"  1902.] 

THE   TYRANNY   OF   CASTE1 

[FROM  "THE  REBUILDING  OF  OLD  COMMONWEALTHS,  BEING  ESSAYS 
TOWARDS  THE  TRAINING  OF  THE  FORGOTTEN  MAN  IN  THE  SOUTHERN 
STATES."  1902.] 

THE  dominant  idea  of  education  was  that  it  was  a  luxury  for  the 
rich,  or  a  privilege  of  the  well-born  —  if  a  necessity  at  all,  a 
necessity  only  for  the  ruling  class.  This  class-feeling  in  education 
was  perceptible  even  within  my  recollection.  When  I  was  a 
pupil  at  the  most  famous  school  for  boys  in  the  State,  a  lad  whose 

1  Copyright,  1902,  by  Walter  H.  Page.  By  kind  permission  of  the  author  and  of 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.  The  first  three  extracts  are  from  "  The  Forgotten  Man," 
an  address  delivered  in  June,  1897,  at  the  State  Normal  and  Industrial  School  for 
Women,  at  Greensboro,  North  Carolina. 


470  WALTER  HINES  PAGE 

father  had  not  had  a  military  or  political  career,  was  at  a  cer 
tain  disadvantage.  I  recall  a  scene  more  ludicrous  than  any  in 
Dickens  when  a  thirteen-year-old  companion  of  mine  came  to 
my  room  one  day,  shut  the  door  and  fell  on  the  bed  and  wept  — 
because  his  father  was  not  a  colonel.  I  tried  to  comfort  him  by 
telling  him  that  my  father  was  not  a  colonel  either.  So  far  from 
consoling  him  this  information  only  gave  him  the  less  respect  for 
me.  I  had  not  seen  this  weeping  lad  for  more  than  twenty-five 
years,  till  I  recently  met  him  on  the  train.  He  was  telling  me  of 
his  children  and  I  asked  if  he  had  ever  reflected  that  his  own 
children's  father  was  not  a  colonel.  He  recalled  the  incident 
as  clearly  as  I  recalled  it.  Learning  might  be  acquired,  but  there 
could  be  no  true  education  in  an  atmosphere  where  such  an 
incident  could  happen. 

These  things  I  mention  not  in  blame  of  our  ancestors.  It  is 
out  of  such  stock  that  the  men  came  who  to-day  rule  the  world. 
But  I  mention  these  things  because  we  ourselves  have  written  and 
spoken  much  nonsense  about  ourselves  and  about  our  ancestors 
and  have  made  ourselves  believe  that  we  were  in  some  way 
different  from  other  sturdy  folk  and  that  we  were  in  some  way 
better  than  other  common  people.  Thus  we  have  come  to  put  a 
false  value  on  our  social  structure,  and  we  have  never  looked  our 
selves  in  the  face  and  seen  ourselves  as  others  see  us.  This  false 
view  has  done  incalculable  hurt.  All  social  progress  must  begin 
with  a  clear  understanding  of  men  as  they  are.  We  are  all  com 
mon  folk,  then,  who  were  once  dominated  by  a  little  aristocracy, 
which,  in  its  social  and  economic  character,  made  a  failure  and 
left  a  stubborn  crop  of  wrong  social  notions  behind  it  —  especially 
about  education. 

THE   NEW  EDUCATIONAL  PROGRESS1 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

IN  my  judgment  there  has  been  no  other  event  in  North  Caro 
lina  since  the  formation  of  the  American  Union  that  is  comparable 

1  Copyright,  1902,  by  Walter  H.  Page.  By  kind  permission  of  the  author  and 
of  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 


THE  NEW  EDUCATIONAL  PROGRESS  4/1 

in  importance  to  this  new  educational  progress.  The  movement 
now  has  such  momentum  that  nothing  can  hinder  the  complete 
development  of  the  public  school  system  till  every  child  is  reached. 
When  every  inhabited  township  votes  a  local  tax,  to  supplement 
the  State  tax,  the  taxes  you  now  levy  will  seem  small  and  will  be 
increased.  According  to  the  last  published  reports  of  the  Com 
missioner  of  Education,  the  total  sum  spent  per  year  per  pupil  in 
the  public  schools  was  still  lower  in  North  Carolina  than  in  any 
State  except  South  Carolina.  It  was  only  $3.40.  In  Georgia  it 
was  nearly  $6.50,  in  Virginia  it  was  nearly  $9,  in  Indiana  it  was 
$20,  in  Michigan  nearly  $20,  in  Wisconsin  $21,  in  Minnesota 
nearly  $30,  in  the  new  State  of  North  Dakota  it  was  nearly  $33.50 
—  nearly  ten  times  the  expenditure  per  pupil  that  was  made  in 
North  Carolina.  None  of  these  States  is  richer  than  your  own  in 
possibilities.  The  ability  to  maintain  schools  is  in  proportion 
rather  to  the  appreciation  of  education  than  to  the  amount  of 
wealth.  We  pay  for  schools  not  so  much  out  of  our  purses  as 
out  of  our  state  of  mind.  For  example,  there  is  a  man  in  Moore 
County  who  had  two  children  at  school  at  the  expense  of  some 
body  else.  Although  he  did  not  pay  their  bills,  he  took  them  from 
school  the  other  day  because,  he  said,  the  charge  for  tuition  was 
too  high.  He  is  the  frankest  and  most  faithful  believer  of  our 
old-time  economic  creed  that  I  have  ever  known. 

As  the  movement  to  establish  public  schools  everywhere  gathers 
force,  men  of  wealth  will  find  that  they  can  do  no  public  service 
with  their  money  so  sure  to  bring  lasting  results  as  to  build  school- 
houses.  The  history  of  philanthropy  shows  that  no  public  bene 
faction  brings  the  same  sure  and  permanent  results  as  provision 
for  the  free  education  of  the  masses.  The  battle  will  be  practi 
cally  won  when  the  whole  State  shall  stand  on  this  platform : 

A  public  school  system  generously  supported  by  public  sentiment, 
and  generously  maintained  by  both  State  and  local  taxation,  is  the 
only  effective  means  to  develop  the  forgotten  man,  and  even  more 
surely  the  only  means  to  develop  the  forgotten  woman} 

1  At  a  recent  educational  conference  a  speaker  computed  that  there  were  in 
1905  at  least  two  thousand  high  schools  in  the  South,  with  an  attendance  of  over  one 
hundred  thousand  pupils. 


4/2  /         WALTER  NINES  PAGE 

THE   VALUE  OF  THE   CHILD1 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  most  sacred  thing  in  the  Commonwealth  and  to  the  Com 
monwealth  is  the  child,  whether  it  be  your  child  or  the  child  of 
the  dull-faced  mother  of  the  hovel.  The  child  of  the  dull- faced 
mother  may,  for  all  you  know,  be  the  most  capable  child  in  the 
State.  At  its  worst,  it  is  capable  of  good  citizenship  and  a  useful 
life,  if  its  intelligence  be  quickened  and  trained.  Several  of  the 
strongest  personalities  that  were  ever  born  in  North  Carolina  were 
men  whose  very  fathers  were  unknown.  We  have  all  known  two 
such,  who  held  high  places  in  church  and  state.  President  Eliot 
said  a  little  while  ago  that  the  ablest  man  that  he  had  known  in 
many  years'  connection  with  Harvard  University  was  the  son  of 
a  brick  mason.  The  child,  whether  it  have  poor  parents  or  rich 
parents,  is  the  most  valuable  undeveloped  resource  of  the  State. 

THE   SCHOOL  THAT   MADE   THE   TOWN1 
[FROM  "THE  SCHOOL  THAT  BUILT  A  TOWN." 2] 

IN  the  first  period  of  Northwood's  history,  you  will  observe, 
the  town  carried  the  schools  —  carried  them  as  a  burden.  The 
schools  of  the  cultivated  widow,  of  the  strenuous  young  lady  and  of 
the  old-fashioned  scholar,  and  the  young  ladies'  seminary,  much  as 
the  several  sets  and  sects  each  boasted  of  its  own  institution,  were 
really  tolerated  rather  than  generously  supported.  The  principals 
had  to  beg  for  them  in  one  form  or  other.  The  public  school  was 
regarded  as  a  sort  of  orphan  asylum  for  the  poor.  The  whole 
educational  work  of  the  town  was  on  a  semi-mendicant  basis  ;  or  it 
was  half  a  sort  of  social  function,  half  a  sort  of  charity.  It  really 

1  Copyright,  1902,  by  Walter  H.  Page.    By  kind  permission  of  the  author  and 
of  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 

2  An  address  delivered  at  the  Commencement  of  the  State  Normal  School  at 
Athens,  Georgia,  December  n,  1901. 


THE  SCHOOL    THAT  MADE   THE   TOWN  4/3 

did  not  touch  the  intellectual  life  of  the  people.  They  supported 
it.  77  did  not  lift  them.  The  town  carried  the  schools  as  social 
and  charitable  burdens. 

Now  this  is  all  changed.  The  school  has  made  the  town.  It 
has  given  nearly  every  successful  man  in  it  his  first  impulse  in  his 
career,  and  it  has  given  the  community  great  renown.  Teachers 
from  all  over  the  country  go  there  to  see  it.  More  than  that, 
many  pupils  go  from  a  distance  to  enter  the  high-school.  More 
than  that,  men  have  gone  there  to  live  because  of  the  school. 
They  go  there  to  establish  industries  of  various  sorts,  because  the 
best  expert  knowledge  of  every  craft  can  be  found  there.  The 
town  has  prospered  and  has  been  rebuilt.  The  architects  are 
high-school  men ;  the  engineers  who  graded  the  streets  and  made 
a  model  system  of  sewers  are  high-school  men ;  the  roads  were 
laid  out  by  high-school  men.  There  is  a  whole  county  of  model 
farms  and  dairies  and  good  stock  farms.  High-school  men  have 
in  this  generation  made  the  community  a  new  community.  They 
conduct  all  sorts  of  factories  —  they  make  furniture,  they  make 
things  of  leather,  they  make  things  of  wrought  iron ;  they  have  hun 
dreds  of  small  industries.  It  is  said  that  a  third  of  the  houses  in 
the  town  contain  home-made  furniture,  after  beautiful  old  patterns 
that  the  owners  themselves  have  made.  And  there  is  one  man 
who  does  inlaid  work  in  wood.  And  all  this  activity*  clusters  about 
the  public  schools.  The  high-school  now  not  only  affects  but  it 
may  be  said  to  dominate  the  life  of  the  town ;  and  this  is  the 
school  that  has  built  the  town,  for  it  has  given  everybody  an  im 
petus  and  has  started  nearly  everybody  towards  an  occupation.  It 
has  enabled  them  to  find  their  own  aptitudes. 

Now  there  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  the  North- 
wood  of  this  generation,  and  the  Northwood  of  the  generation 
before.  It  is  a  difference  so  great  that  it  cannot  be  told  in  one 
morning.  But  the  change  is  simply  the  result  of  a  changed  view 
of  education. 

Education,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  when  it  is  dallied  with, 
played  with,  tolerated,  and  imperfectly  done,  is  a  costly  and 
troublesome  thing.  In  the  first  place  it  is  talked  to  death.  It 
causes  more  discussion  than  politics  or  than  bad  crops.  There 


474  LA  TTER-DA  Y  POE  TS 

are  many  persons  who  do  not  believe  in  it  and  many  more  who 
wish  they  did  not  and  could  get  rid  of  the  bother  of  it. 

But  when  education  becomes  not  only  part  and  parcel  of  the 
life  of  the  people,  but  a  thing  that  they  have  all  profited  by  —  a 
thing  that  underlies  life  as  the  soil  underlies  the  growth  in  the  gar 
den —  then  education  becomes  cheap  and  easy.  Nobody  asks 
what  it  costs,  nobody  questions  its  benefits,  nobpdy  harbours  a 
doubt  about  it. 

In  one  case  the  community  grudgingly  supports  its  schools  as 
a  burden.  In  the  other  case,  the  schools  build  the  community. 
And  this  is  the  lesson  of  Northwood. 


LATTER-DAY   POETS 

THE  amount  of  very  creditable  poetry,  especially  from  the  point  of  view 
of  technique,  that  is  being  written  in  America  to-day  is  a  phenomenon  not 
infrequently  commented  upon  by  critics,  but  apparently  not  often  borne  in 
mind  by  the  reading  public.  To  this  latter-day  poetry  the  South  is  con 
tributing  her  full  share,  as  seems  proved  by  the  selections  that  follow.  The 
names  of  the  late  John  Henry  Boner,  of  Mr.  Cawein,  of  Dr.  Peck,  of  "  Father 
Tabb,"  of  Mrs.  Dandridge,  of  Mr.  Frank  Stanton,  of  Mr.  Robert  Burns  Wilson, 
and  other  Southern  poets  are  known  outside  their  section;  but  there  are  not 
a  few  Southern  writers  of  verse  worthy  to  bear  them  company  whose  work, 
for  one  reason  or  another,  is  not  widely  known,  in  some  cases  not  even  well 
known  in  the  South  itself.  To  include  specimens  of  all  these  poets  is  ob 
viously  impossible;  but  of  them  all  the  editor  may  say,  as  he  has  done  of 
contemporary  American  poets  in  general,  that  "  criticism  of  their  work  is 
not  so  important  as  a  cordial  recognition  of  the  service  they  render  the  cause 
of  pure  literature  by  their  devotion  to  the  art  they  have  felt  called  to  pur 
sue.  Such  devotion,  praiseworthy  in  any  age,  is  particularly  worthy  of 
honor  and  emulation  in  a  period  when  the  rewards  of  popularity  and 
pecuniary  gains  go  in  increasing  measure  to  the  purveyors  of  what  is 
most  aptly  denominated  light  literature.  It  is  proper  enough  that  poetry 
should  be  its  own  reward,  it  is  right  and  natural  enough  that  it  should  no 
longer  hold  its  prestige  over  prose,  since  it  has  ceased  to  deal  with  life  in 
a  large,  universal  way.  But  these  facts  do  not  excuse  the  utter  indifference 
of  thousands  to  an  art  that  has  never  before  been  more  gracefully  or  more 
reverently  practised,  nor  should  they  lessen  our  gratitude  to  the  artists  who 
pursue  their  ideals,  although  deprived  in  a  considerable  measure  of  that  pub- 


MY  STAR  475 

lie  sympathy  which  was  as  the  breath  of  life  to  the  master  singers  of  the  past. 
It  is  not  to  be  believed  that  sympathy  with  our  poets  will  ever  become  ex 
tinct  among  us;  but  it  is  well  to  remind  ourselves  that  permanent  excellence 
is  not  to  be  expected  of  any  art  the  existence  of  which  is  merely  tolerated  by 
the  general  public."  J 


JOHN    BANISTER  TABB 

[BORN  in  Amelia  County,  Virginia,  March  22,  1845.  He  served  on  a  block 
ade  runner  during  the  Civil  War,  and  was  kept  seven  months  in  Point  Look 
out  prison,  where  he  became  a  friend  of  Sidney  Lanier  (^.z>.).  He  began  to 
teach  and  write  verses  in  1872.  In  1884  he  printed  privately  a  volume  of 
poems,  was  ordained  a  priest  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  became 
professor  of  English  in  St.  Charles  College,  Ellicott  City,  Maryland.  He  has 
issued  "Poems"  (1894),  "Lyrics"  (1897),  "An  Octave  to  Mary,"  "Child 
Verse,  Poems  Grave  and  Gay  "  (1899),  "Two  Lyrics  "  (1900),  "  Later  Lyrics  " 
(1902),  and  "Rosary  in  Rhyme"  (1904).  "Father"  Tabb,  as  he  is  usually 
called,  won  instant  and  widespread  recognition  for  his  lyric  work,  especially 
in  the  quatrain  and  other  restricted  measures.  See  The  Bookbuyer,  May,  1896.] 

MY   STAR2 
[FROM  "  POEMS  BY  JOHN  B.  TABB."    SECOND  EDITION,  1895.] 

SINCE  the  dewdrop  holds  the  star 

The  long  night  through, 
Perchance  the  satellite  afar 

Reflects  the  dew. 

• 

And  while  thine  image  in  my  heart 

Doth  steadfast  shine ; 
There,  haply,  in  thy  heaven  apart 

Thou  keepest  mine. 

1  From  "  A  Brief  History  of  American  Literature,"  p.  234. 

2  Copyright,  1894,  by  Copeland  &  Day.    All  the  poems  selected  are  here  printed 
by  kind  permission  of  the  author  and  the  present  publishers  and  holders  of  copy 
right,  Small,  Maynard  &  Co. 


476  JOHN  BANISTER    TABS 

THE   HALF-RING  MOON 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

OVER  the  sea,  over  the  sea, 

My  love  he  is  gone  to  a  far  countrie ; 

But  he  brake  a  golden  ring  with  me 
The  pledge  of  his  faith  to  be. 

Over  the  sea,  over  the  sea, 

He  comes  no  more  from  the  far  countrie ; 
But  at  night,  where  the  new  moon  loved  to  be, 

Hangs  the  half  of  a  ring  for  me. 

CHILDHOOD 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

OLD  Sorrow  I  shall  meet  again, 
And  Joy,  perchance  —  but  never,  never, 

Happy  Childhood,  shall  we  twain 
See  each  other's  face  for  ever ! 

And  yet  I  would  not  call  thee  back, 
Dear  Childhood,  lest  the  sight  of  me, 

Thine  old  companion,  on  the  rack 
Of  Age,  should  sadden  even  thee. 

KEATS  —  SAPPHO 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

METHINKS,  when  first  the  nightingale 
Was  mated  to  thy  deathless  song, 

That  Sappho  with  emotion  pale, 
Amid  the  Olympian  throng, 


CARLYLE  MCKINLEY  477 

Again,  as  in  the  Lesbian  grove, 

Stood  listening  with  lips  apart, 
To  hear  in  thy  melodious  love 

The  pantings  of  her  heart. 


TO  THE  BABE  NIVA 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

NIVA,  Child  of  Innocence, 

Dust  to  dust  we  go  : 
Thou,  when  Winter  wooed  thee  hence, 

Wentest  snow  to  snow. 

TO   SIDNEY  LANIER 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  dewdrop  holds  the  heaven  above, 

Wherein  a  lark,  unseen, 
Outpours  a  rhapsody  of  love 

That  fills  the  space  between. 

My  heart  a  dewdrop  is,  and  thou, 

Dawn-spirit,  far  away, 
Finest  the  void  between  us  now 

With  an  immortal  lay. 


CARLYLE   McKINLEY 

[BORN  at  Newnan,  Georgia,  November  22,  1847;  died  at  Mt.  Pleasant, 
Charleston  Harbor,  August  24,  1904.  He  studied  at  the  University  of  Georgia 
but  left  the  institution  to  enter  the  Confederate  Army.  After  the  war  he 
graduated  at  the  Southern  Presbyterian  Theological  Seminary  at  Columbia, 
South  Carolina,  in  1874,  and  began  newspaper  work  the  next  year  as  Washing 
ton  correspondent  of  The  News  and  Courier  of  Charleston.  After  being 
employed  in  the  railroad  business  he  became  permanently  associated  till  his 


478  CARLYLE  MCKINLEY 

death  with  The  News  and  Courier  as  an  editorial  writer.  He  published  an 
account  of  the  Charleston  Earthquake  in  the  "Year  Book  of  the  City  of 
Charleston"  for  1885,  and  a  book  on  the  negro  problem,  "An  Appeal  to 
Pharaoh  "  in  1889,  as  well  as  miscellaneous  essays  and  poems.  A  thin  volume 
of  "Selections  from  the  Poems  of  Carlyle  McKinley"  was  issued  in  1904, 
also  a  small  memorial  pamphlet  containing  the  tributes  of  his  friends  to  his 
high  character  and  exceptional  talents.] 


SAPELO1 
[FROM  "  SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  POEMS  OF  CARLYLE  MCKINLEY."    1904.] 

FAR  from  thy  shores,  enchanted  isle, 
To-night  I  claim  a  brief  surcease 
From  toil  and  pain,  to  dream  awhile 
Of  thy  still  peace  — 

To  wander  on  thy  shining  strand, 

And  lose  awhile  life's  troubled  flow ; 
Its  tumults  die  upon  thy  sand, 
Blest  Sapelo. 

The  sun  is  setting  in  the  west ; 

The  last  light  fades  on  land  and  sea ; 
The  silence  woos  all  things  to  rest  — 
And  wooeth  me. 

So  here  I  lie,  with  half- closed  eye, 

Careless,  without  one  vexing  thought, 
While  cool  uncounted  hours  drift  by 
In  dreamy  sort. 

And,  ever,  sweet  thoughts  without  words, 

The  shadows  of  old  memories, 
Rise  up  and  float  away,  as  birds 
Float  down  the  skies. 

i  "  Sapelo  Island  is  on  the  ocean  front  of  Mclntosh  County,  near  Darien, 
Georgia"  (Hon.  William  A.  Courtenay's  Memorial  Pamphlet). 


SAPELO  479 

In  dreams  I  see  the  live-oak  groves  j 
In  dreams  I  hear  the  curlews  cry, 
Or  watch  the  little  mourning  doves 
Speed  softly  by. 

I  hear  the  surf  beat  on  the  sands, 

And  murmurous  voices  from  the  sea ; 
The  wanton  waves  toss  their  white  hands, 

And  beckon  me. 

####### 
The  waves  are  murmuring  on  the  beach,1 

A  soft  wind  whispers  in  the  palm ; 
There  is  no  sound  of  ruder  speech 
To  mar  the  calm. 

The  happy  sun  comes  up  once  more 
Above  the  woods  I  know  so  well ; 
The  rosy  heaven,  from  shore  to  shore, 
Glows  like  a  shell. 

I  see  the  great  old  trees  and  tall, 

Sheeted  with  tangled  vines  that  sweep 
From  limb  to  limb  —  a  leafy  pall, 
Where  shadows  sleep. 

The  long  moss  waves  in  every  breeze, 

Like  tattered  banners,  old  and  gray ; 
And  sigh  and  sigh  the  old,  old  trees 
All  night,  all  day. 

With  flower  and  fruit  at  once  arrayed, 
The  orange  groves  are  passing  fair, 
As  though  all  seasons  loved  such  shade, 
And  lingered  there. 

A  mocking-bird  on  quivering  wings 

Floats  up  and  down  the  woodland  ways, 

*  Five  stanzas  are  omitted  at  this  point,  and  six  at  the  end. 


480  GEORGE  HERBERT  SASS 

And,  glad  with  me,  he  soars  and  sings 
Our  song  of  praise. 

Slow,  solemn  cranes,  with  drowsy  eyes, 
Nod  in  the  shallow  surf,  breast-high ; 
And  snow-white  gulls,  with  hollow  cries, 
Flit  softly  by. 

The  turning  tide  runs  slowly  out ; 

I  hear  the  marsh-birds  calling  shrill ; 
The  toiling  oarsmen's  song  and  shout 
Come  to  me  still. 

I  hear  their  boat-songs  through  the  night ; 

I  think  it  is  my  heart  that  hears 
The  old  songs  sounding  yet,  despite 
These  long,  long  years. 

White  clouds  are  drifting  out  to  sea ; 

Like  clouds  the  great  ships  come  and  go, 
As  strange,  and  white,  and  silently, 
As  soft  and  slow. 

From  far-off  lands,  like  tired  things, 
They  wander  hither  o'er  the  deep. 
Here  all  things  rest,  they  fold  their  wings 
And  fall  asleep. 


GEORGE   HERBERT   SASS 

[BORN  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  December  24,  1845.  He  graduated 
at  the  College  of  Charleston  in  1867,  began  to  write  verses  during  the  war, 
one  of  his  patriotic  poems  winning  a  prize  in  a  competition.  While  he  has 
continued  to  practise  his  art  under  the  pseudonym  of  "  Barton  Grey,"  Mr.  Sass 
has  also  served  as  a  master  in  equity,  and  as  literary  editor  of  The  News  and 
Courier.  In  1902  he  received  the  degree  of  LL.D.  from  his  alma  mater.  His 
poems  were  collected  in  1904  under  the  title  of  "The  Heart's  Quest.  A 
Book  of  Verses.  By  Barton  Grey."] 


IN  A  KING-CAMBYSES   VEIN  481 


THE   CONFEDERATE   DEAD1 

[FROM  "THE  HEART'S  QUEST.    A  BOOK  OF  VERSES.    BY  BARTON  GREY." 

1904.] 

How  grand  a  fame  this  marble  watches  o'er  ! 
Their  Wars  behind  them  —  God's  great  Peace  before. 
They  fought,  they  failed,  yet,  ere  the  bitter  end, 
Them,  too,  did  Fortune  wondrously  befriend. 
They  never  knew,  as  we  who  mourn  them  know, 
How  vain  was  all  their  strife,  how  vast  their  woe  : 
And  how  the  land  they  gave  their  lives  to  save 
Returns  them  all  she  has  to  give  —  a  Grave. 


IN  A   KING-CAMBYSES   VEIN 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

CAMBYSES,  King  of  the  Persians, 

Sat  with  his  lords  at  play 
Where  the  shades  of  the  broad  plane-branches 

Slanted  athwart  the  way. 

And  he  listened  and  heard  Prexaspes 

Tell  to  his  fellows  there 
Of  a  Bactrian  bowman's  prowess, 

And  skill  beyond  compare. 

And  the  heart  of  the  King  was  bitter, 

And  he  turned  and  said  to  him  : 
"  Dost  see  on  the  greensward  yonder 

That  plane-tree's  slender  limb? 

"  It  stands  far  off  in  the  gloaming  — 
Dost  think  thy  Bactrian  could 

1  Copyright,  1904,  by  George   Herbert  Sass.     The  poems  selected  are  here 
printed  by  kind  permission  of  the  author  and  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 
21 


482  GEORGE  HERBERT  SASS 

With  a  single  shaft  unerring 

Smite  through  that  slender  wood?  " 

"  But  nay,"  then  said  Prexaspes, 

"  Nor  ever  a  mortal  man 
Since  the  days  when  Nimrod  hunted 

Where  great  Euphrates  ran." 

Then  Cambyses,  son  of  Cyrus, 

Looked,  and  before  him  there 
Meres,  the  King's  cup-bearer, 
. '   Stood  where  the  wine  flowed  clear. 

Meres,  the  King's  cup-bearer, 

Prexaspes'  only  son, 
And  the  heart  of  the  King  was  hardened, 

And  the  will  of  the  King  was  done. 

And  he  said  :  "  Bind  Meres  yonder 
To  the  plane-tree's  slender  stem, 

And  give  me  yon  sheaf  of  arrows 
And  the  bow  that  lies  by  them." 

; 

And  so,  when  the  guards  had  bound  him, 
He  drew  the  shaft  to  the  head ; 

"  Give  heed  !  give  heed,  Prexaspes, 
I  aim  for  the  heart !  "  he  said. 

Sharp  through  the  twilight  stillness 
Echoed  the  steel-bow's  twang ; 

Loud  through  the  twilight  stillness 
The  courtiers'  plaudits  rang. 

And  the  head  of  the  boy  drooped  downward, 
And  the  quivering  shaft  stood  still ; 

And  the  King  said,  "  O  Prexaspes, 
Match  I  thy  Bactrian's  skill?  " 


A   FACE  483 

Then  low  before  Cambyses 

The  Satrap  bowed  his  head  — 
"  O  great  King,  live  forever  ! 

Thou  hast  cleft  the  heart !  "  he  said.1 


A  FACE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THERE  is  a  face  I  remember, 

Clear  through  the  shadow  of  years ; 

I  can  see  it  to-night  so  plainly, 
Except  now  and  then  for  my  tears. 

A  face  you  would  not  have  fancied, 
It  would  have  meant  nothing  to  you, 

But  to  me  it  has  just  been  the  one  thing 
To  dream  of  my  whole  life  through. 

There  never  was  aught  between  us, 

She  never  looked  into  my  heart ; 
Friend  unto  friend  spoke  greeting, 

Friend  as  from  friend  did  part. 

The  summers  have  flushed  and  faded 

So  often  since  last  we  met, 
I  am  sure  she  does  not  remember, 

I  know  I  cannot  forget. 

1  The  title  of  this  poem  is  derived  from  "  THenry  IV,"  II,  iv,  425.  The  story 
on  which  it  is  founded  is  given  in  Herodotus  III,  35,  but  there  are  important  vari 
ations,  as  Mr.  Sass  has  pointed  out  in  an  interesting  letter  to  the  editor.  The  Bac- 
trian  archer  does  not  appear  in  Herodotus,  but  does  appear  in  Paul  Hayne's  version 
of  the  story  —  his  narrative  poem  in  blank  verse,  "Cambyses  and  the  Macrobian 
Bow"  in  "Legends  and  Lyrics."  Yet  Mr.  Sass  cannot  remember  having  read 
Hayne's  poem  before  composing  his  own,  and  thinks  that  both  may  have  been 
based  on  some  other  version  of  the  episode.  Mr.  Sass  remembers  inventing  the 
name  Meres. 


484  SAMUEL  MINTURN  PECK 

For  the  face  is  there  in  my  dreaming, 
It  dwells  with  me  everywhere, 

The  clear  brown  eyes  shine  on  me, 
Wavers  the  dusky  hair. 

The  faces  of  men  and  women 

I  meet  with  every  day 
Pass  and  vanish,  —  but  this  face 

Never  can  fade  away. 

Whether  in  life's  hard  journey 
Those  eyes  have  lost  their  light, 

Whether  the  mouth's  pure  sweetness 
Quivers  with  pain  to-night, 

I  know  not,  knowing  only 
It  changes  not  for  me,  — 

That  face  my  heart  keeps  safely 
And  my  eyes  no  more  may  see. 


SAMUEL   MINTURN    PECK 

[BORN  of  Northern  stock  in  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama,  November  4,  1854,  a  son 
of  a  chief-justice  of  the  state.  He  graduated  from  the  University  of  Alabama 
(at  his  birthplace)  in  1876,  studied  medicine  and  graduated  from  Bellevue  in 
New  York  City,  and  from  his  twenty-fifth  year  began  to  write  poems  for  news 
papers  and  magazines  which  gained  him  many  readers.  He  has  collected  his 
verses  in  "  Cap  and  Bells  "  (1886),  which  has  passed  through  many  editions,  in 
"  Rings  and  Love-knots  "  (1892)  and  in  "  Rhymes  and  Roses  "  (1895).  He 
has  also  written  fiction,  collected  in  "  Alabama  Sketches"  (1902),  and  he  has 
furnished  verses  for  two  illustrated  volumes, "  The  Fair  Women  of  To-day  " 
(1896)  and  "The  Golf  Girl"  (1899).  "The  Grapevine  Swing"  is  perhaps 
Dr.  Peck's  best-known  poem,  but  many  others  of  his  light,  melodious  lyrics 
have  become  very  popular.  He  is  unmarried  and  resides  in  his  Tuscaloosa 
home,  but  frequently  travels  in  Europe  and  has  taken  special  courses  of  study 
in  literature.  For  sympathetic  criticism,  see  the  paper  by  Professor  William 
Henry  Hulme,  in  "  Southern  Writers,"  Vol.  II.] 


PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE  485 

ALABAMA1 

[FROM  "  CAP  AND  BELLS."    SIXTH  EDITION.] 

WHY  shines  the  moon  so  wan  and  white  ? 
Why  drift  the  shades  so  thick  to-night 
Beneath  the  winds  that  wail  in  flight 

Across  the  sobbing  foam? 
I  watched  the  happy  swallows  flee 
Beyond  the  lurid  autumn  sea ; 
They  fled  and  left  the  gloom  to  me, 

Far  —  far  from  home. 

Know'st  thou  that  balmy  Southern  land, 
By  myrtle  crowned,  by  zephyrs  fanned, 
Where  verdant  hills  and  forests  grand 

Smile  'neath  an  azure  dome? 
Tis  there  the  stars  shed  softer  beams 
As  if  to  bless  the  woods  and  streams ; 
'Tis  there  I  wander  in  my  dreams, 

Far  —  far  from  home. 

I  long  to  hear  the  murmuring  pine, 
To  see  the  golden  jasmine  twine, 
For  there  my  fancy  builds  her  shrine 

Where'er  my  footsteps  roam. 
O,  sunny  land,  for  thy  sweet  sake 
A  thousand  tender  memories  wake ; 
For  thee  my  heart  is  like  to  break, 

Far  —  far  from  home. 

PAUL  HAMILTON   HAYNE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

ALL  strains  are  his.     But  most  his  lines 

Are  fraught  with  peace  and  woodland  pleasures, 

1  Copyright,  1886,  by  White,  Stokes,  and  Allen.  All  the  copyrighted  poems 
selected  are  here  printed  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Com 
pany  and  the  author. 


486  SAMUEL  MINT  URN  PECK 

With  bough-swing  of  the  Georgian  pines 
Enwoven  through  the  golden  measures. 

Beneath  the  purple  muscadine 

Sweet  Fancy  brings  him  many  a  vision, 

Where  frolic  Dryads,  laughing,  twine 
In  airy  cirques  and  songs  Elysian. 

Who  notes  the  frosts  that  fringe  his  brows  ! 

His  tide  of  song  is  swelling  sweeter, 
With  breathings  of  the  myrtle  boughs 

Arid  sunny  roses  in  the  meter. 

Who  cavils  at  the  wings  of  Time  ! 

They  only  waft  him  tones  more  tender 
That  he  may  chant  in  mellow  rhyme 

Of  woodland  charms  and  cloudland  splendor. 

The  winsome  Nine,  a  lissome  throng, 

With  dimpled  smiles  still  linger  near  him ; 

And  still  supreme  in  Southern  song, 
He  pipes  and  millions  joy  to  hear  him. 


THE   GRAPEVINE   SWING1 
[FROM  "RINGS  AND  LOVE-KNOTS."    FOURTH  EDITION.] 

WHEN  I  was  a  boy  on  the  old  plantation, 

Down  by  the  deep  bayou, 
The  fairest  spot  of  all  creation, 

Under  the  arching  blue; 
When  the  wind  came  over  the  cotton  and  corn, 

To  the  long  slim  loop  I'd  spring 
With  brown  feet  bare,  and  a  hat-brim  torn, 

And  swing  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

1  Copyright,  1892,  by  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company. 


THE   GRAPEVINE  SWING  487 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing, 
Laughing  where  the  wild  birds  sing, 

I  dream  and  sigh 

For  the  days  gone  by 
Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Out  —  o'er  the  water-lilies  bonnie  and  bright, 

Back  —  to  the  moss-grown  trees; 
I  shouted  and  laughed  with  a  heart  as  light 

As  a  wild-rose  tossed  by  the  breeze. 
The  mocking-bird  joined  in  my  reckless  glee, 

I  longed  for  no  angel's  wing, 
I  was  just  as  near  heaven  as  I  wanted  to  be 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing, 
Laughing  where  the  wild  birds  sing, — 

Oh,  to  be  a  boy 

With  a  heart  full  of  joy, 
Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing ! 

I'm  weary  at  noon,  I'm  weary  at  night, 

I'm  fretted  and  sore  of  heart, 
And  care  is  sowing  my  locks  with  white 

As  I  wend  through  the  fevered  mart. 
I'm  tired  of  the  world  with  its  pride  and  pomp, 

And  fame  seems  a  worthless  thing. 
I'd  barter  it  all  for  one  day's  romp, 

And  a  swing  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing, 
Laughing  where  the  wild  birds  sing, 

I  would  I  were  away 

From  the  world  to-day, 
Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing.1 

1  William  Gilmore  Simms  wrote  a  poem  on  this  subject,  which  may  be  found  in 
Weber's  "Selections  from  the  Southern  Poets," 


488  SAMUEL  MINTURN  PECK 

A   SOUTHERN   GIRL 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

HER  dimpled  cheeks  are  pale ; 
She's  a  lily  of  the  vale, 

Not  a  rose. 
In  a  muslin  or  a  lawn 
She  is  fairer  than  the  dawn 

To  her  beaux. 

Her  boots  are  slim  and  neat,  — 
She  is  vain  about  her  feet 

It  is  said. 

She  amputates  her  r's, 
But  her  eyes  are  like  the  stars 

Overhead. 

On  a  balcony  at  night 
With  a  fleecy  cloud  of  white 

Round  her  hair  — 
Her  grace,  ah,  who  could  paint? 
She  would  fascinate  a  saint, 

I  declare. 

'Tis  a  matter  of  regret, 
She's  a  bit  of  a  coquette, 

Whom  I  sing : 
On  her  cruel  path  she  goes 
With  a  half-a-dozen  beaux 

To  her  string. 

But  let  all  that  pass  by, 
As  her  maiden  moments  fly 

Dew  empearled ; 
When  she  marries,  on  my  life, 
She  will  make  the  dearest  wife 

In  the  world. 


AUNT  JEMIMA'S   QUILT  489 

AUNT  JEMIMA'S   QUILT1 
[FROM  "  RHYMES  AND  ROSES."] 

A  MIRACLE  of  gleaming  dyes 

Blue,  scarlet,  buff  and  green ; 
O  ne'er  before  by  mortal  eyes 

Such  gorgeous  hues  were  seen  ! 
So  grandly  was  its  plan  designed, 

So  cunningly  'twas  built, 
The  whole  proclaimed  a  master  mind  — 

My  Aunt  Jemima's  quilt. 

Each  friendly  household  far  and  wide 

Contributed  its  share ; 
It  chronicled  the  country  side 

In  colors  quaint  and  rare. 
From  belles  and  brides  came  rich  brocade 

Enwrought  with  threads  of  gilt ; 
E'en  buxom  widows  lent  their  aid 

To  Aunt  Jemima's  quilt. 

No  tapestry  from  days  of  yore, 

No  web  from  Orient  loom, 
But  paled  in  beauteous  tints  before 

This  strange  expanse  of  bloom. 
Here  glittering  stars  and  comet  shone 

O'er  flowers  that  never  wilt ; 
Here  fluttered  birds  from  worlds  unknown 

On  Aunt  Jemima's  quilt. 

O,  merry  was  the  quilting  bee, 

When  this  great  quilt  was  done  \ 
The  rafters  rang  with  maiden  glee, 

And  hearts  were  lost  and  won. 

1  Copyright,  1895,  by  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company. 


4QO  SAMUEL  MINTURN  PECK 

Ne'er  did  a  throng  of  braver  men 

In  war  clash  hilt  to  hilt, 
Than  sought  the  smiles  of  beauty  then 

Round  Aunt  Jemima's  quilt. 

This  work  of  art  my  aunt  esteemed 

The  glory  of  the  age  ; 
No  poet's  eyes  have  ever  beamed 

More  proudly  o'er  his  page. 
Were  other  quilt  to  this  compared, 

Her  nose  would  upward  tilt ; 
Such  impudence  was  seldom  dared 

O'er  Aunt  Jemima's  quilt. 

Her  dear  old  hands  have  gone  to  dust, 

That  once  were  lithe  and  light ; 
Her  needles  keen  are  thick  with  rust, 

That  flashed  so  nimbly  bright. 
And  here  it  lies  by  her  behest, 

Stained  with  the  tears  we  spilt, 
Safe  folded  in  this  cedar  chest  — 

My  Aunt  Jemima's  quilt. 


PHYLLIS 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  singing  of  sweet  Phyllis 
Like  the  silver  laughing  rill  is, 
And  her  breath  is  like  the  lily's 

In  the  dawn. 

As  graceful  as  the  dipping 
Summer  swallow,  or  the  skipping 
Of  a  lambkin  is  her  tripping 

O'er  the  lawn. 


PHYLLIS  491 


To  whom  shall  I  compare  her? 
To  a  dryad?     No  !    She's  rarer. 
She  is  something  —  only  fairer  — 

Like  Bopeep. 

She  is  merry,  she  is  clever. 
Surely  had  Bopeep  been  ever 
Half  so  winsome,  she  had  never 

Lost  a  sheep. 

Her  eyes  are  like  the  heather, 
Or  the  skies  in  April  weather ; 
And  as  blue  as  both  together 

In  the  spring. 
Alas  !  I  need  a  metre, 
As  I  pipe  her,  that  is  sweeter, 
And  a  rhythm  that  is  fleeter 

On  the  wing. 


Beyond  a  poet's  fancies, 

Though  the  muse  had  kissed  his  glances, 

Is  her  dimple  when  it  dances 

In  a  smile. 

Oh,  the  havoc  it  is  making  — 
Days  of  sorrow,  nights  of  waking  — 
Half  a  score  of  hearts  are  aching 

All  the  while. 


Sweet  Phyllis  !  I  adore  her, 

And  with  beating  heart  implore  her 

On  my  loving  knees  before  her 

In  alarm. 

'Tis  neither  kind  nor  rightful 
That  a  lassie  so  delightful 
Should  exert  a  spell  so  frightful 

With  her  charm. 


492  WILLIAM  HAMILTON  HAYNE 

FROM   "A   WINTER   DAY" 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

PENT  in  his  lair  until  the  storms  be  past, 
Sequestered  from  the  north  wind's  stinging  blast, 
The  bumble  bee  in  cozy  slumber  dreams 
Of  mossy  dingles  and  soft  rippling  streams 
O'erhung  by  flowerets  waiting  to  be  won 
When  blue-eyed  Spring  leads  back  the  ardent  sun, 
And  Winter's  restless  wrath  is  all  forgot 
Neath  spell  of  primrose  and  forget-me-not. 
The  cricket  too  hath  buried  in  the  mould 
His  Autumn  sorrow  from  a  world  a-cold ; 
Or  else  a  guest  beside  the  cottage  hearth 
He  wakes  again  his  minstrelsie  and  mirth ; 
And  as  he  gaily  sweeps  his  elfin  lyre 
His  lay  finds  answer  in  the  crackling  fire, 
Which  echoes  back  his  summer-toned  refrain 
Of  joyous  revels  in  the  golden  grain. 

WILLIAM    HAMILTON    HAYNE 

[BORN  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  March  11,  1856,  the  son  of  Paul 
Hamilton  Hayne  (g.v.).  He  was  educated  mainly  at  his  home  "  Copse  Hill" 
near  Augusta,  Georgia,  where  he  still  resides.  He  began  to  publish  verses  in 
newspapers  and  magazines  in  1879,  and  has  since  been  a  steady  contributor. 
His  poems  were  collected  in  "  Sylvan  Lyrics  and  Other  Verses"  (1892).] 

A  CYCLONE  AT    SEA1 

A  THROAT  of  thunder,  a  tameless  heart, 

And  a  passion  malign  and  free ; 
He  is  no  sheik  of  the  desert  sand, 

But  an  Arab  of  the  sea  ! 

1  First  published  in  The  Independent.  By  kind  permission  of  the  publishers  and 
the  author. 


THE    YULE  LOG  493 

He  sprang  from  the  womb  of  some  wild  cloud, 

And  was  born  to  smite  and  slay ; 
To  soar  like  a  million  hawks  set  free, 

And  swoop  on  his  ocean  prey  ! 

He  has  scourged  the  Sea  'till  her  mighty  breast 

Responds  to  his  heart's  fierce  beat, 
And  has  torn  brave  souls  from  their  bodies  frail 

To  fling  them  at  Allah's  feet. 

Possessed  by  a  demon's  lust  of  life 

He  revels  o'er  wrecks  and  graves, 
And  hurtles  onward  in  curbless  speed,  — 

Dark  Bedouin  of  the  waves. 

"SLEEP   AND  HIS  BROTHER  DEATH"1 

JUST  ere  the  darkness  is  withdrawn, 

In  seasons  of  cold  or  heat, 
Close  to  the  boundary  line  of  Dawn 

These  mystical  brothers  meet. 

They  clasp  their  weird  and  shadowy  hands, 

As  they  listen  each  to  each, 
But  never  a  mortal  understands 

Their  strange  immortal  speech. 

THE  YULE  LOG2 

Our  of  the  mighty  Yule  log  came 

The  crooning  of  the  lithe  wood-flame,  — 

A  single  bar  of  music  fraught 

With  cheerful  yet  half-pensive  thought,  — 

A  thought  elusive  ;  out  of  reach, 

Yet  trembling  on  the  verge  of  speech. 

1  First  published  in  Collier's  Weekly.     By  kind  permission  of  the  publishers  and 
the  author. 

2  First  published  in  The  Cosmopolitan.    By  kind  permission  of  the  publishers  and 
the  author. 


494  YATES  SNOW  DEN 


YATES   SNOWDEN 

[BORN  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  May  8,  1858.  He  graduated  in 
1879  at  the  College  of  Charleston,  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1882,  but 
shortly  after  joined  the  staff  of  The  News  and  Courier  J\ 


A  CAROLINA   BOURBON1 
W.  M.   P.   (1812-1902) 

RIDICULOUS  to  some  may  seem 

This  relic  of  the  old  regime, 

So  rudely  wakened  from  his  dream 

Of  high  ambition. 
A  heart  of  nature's  noblest  mould, 
By  honor  tempered  and  controlled  — 
Oh  !  look  not  in  a  soul  so  bold 

For  mock  contrition. 

For,  when  the  die  of  war  was  cast, 
And  through  the  land  the  bugle  blast 
Called  all  to  arms  from  first  to  last, 

For  Carolina, 

Careless  of  what  might  be  his  fate, 
He  gave  his  all  to  save  the  State ; 
He  thought,  thinks  now  (strange  to  relate), 

No  cause  diviner. 

Of  name  and  lineage  proud,  he  bore 
The  character  'mongst  rich  and  poor 
Which  marks  now,  as  in  days  of  yore, 

The  Huguenot. 

Two  hundred  slaves  were  in  his  train, 
Six  thousand  acres  broad  domain. 
(His  ancestors  in  fair  Touraine 

Had  no  such  lot.) 

1  By  kind  permission  of  the  author. 


A    CAROLINA   BOURBON  495 

He  loved  and  wooed  in  early  days ; 
She  died,  —  and  he  her  memory  pays 
The  highest  tribute  —  for,  with  ways 

And  views  extreme, 

He,  'gainst  stern  facts  and  common  sense, 
To  the  whole  sex  (to  all  intents) , 
Transferred  the  love  and  reverence 

Of  life's  young  dream. 

Perhaps  too  easy  life  he  led  — 
Four  hours  afield,  and  ten  abed, 
His  other  time  he  talked  and  read, 

Or  else  made  merry 
With  many  a  planter  friend  to  dine, 
His  health  to  drink  in  rare  old  wine  — 
Madeira,  which  thrice  crossed  the  line, 

And  gold-leaf  Sherry. 

And  here  was  mooted  many  a  day, 
The  question  on  which  each  gourmet 
Throughout  the  Parish  had  his  say : 

"Which  is  the  best, 
Santee  or  Cooper  River  bream  ? " 
Alas  !  the  evening  star  grew  dim, 
Ere  any  guest  agreed  with  him, 

Or  he  with  guest. 
******* 

The  war  rotted  on  ;  and  many  a  friend 
And  kinsman,  whom  he  helped  to  send 
Their  homes  and  country  to  defend, 

Home  ne'er  returned. 
What  harder  lot  could  now  befall ! 
Threats  could  not  bend  nor  woes  appall ; 
Unmoved,  he  saw  his  Fathers'  hall 

To  ashes  burned. 

And  now  to  live  within  his  means, 
He  dons  his  gray  Kentucky  jeans. 


496  HENRY  JEROME   STOCKARD 

(His  dress,  in  other  times  and  scenes, 

Was  drap  (fete.) 

His  hat  is  much  the  worse  for  wear ; 
His  shoes  revamped  from  year  to  year, 
For  "  calf-skin  boots  are  all  too  dear," 

We  hear  him  say. 

So  life  drags  on  as  in  a  trance, 
No  emigre l  of  stricken  France, 
No  Jacobite  of  old  romance 

Of  sterner  mould. 

His  fortune  gone,  his  rights  denied ; 
For  him  the  Federal  Union  died 
When  o'er  Virginia's  line  the  tide 

Of  battle  rolled. 
******* 

Loyal je  serai  durant  ma  vie 2 

So  runs  his  motto.     What  cares  he 

For  the  flag  that  flies  from  sea  to  sea 

And  tops  the  world? 
Within  the  silence  of  his  gates 
Death's  welcome  shadow  he  awaits, 
Still  true  to  those  Confederate  States 

Whose  flag  is  furled. 


HENRY   JEROME  STOCKARD 

[BORN  in  Chatham  County,  North  Carolina,  September  15,  1858.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Graham  High  School  and  the  University  of  North  Carolina, 
receiving  the  degree  of  A.M.  He  has  held  positions  as  county  superintendent  of 
schools,  principal  of  a  high  school,  assistant  professor  of  English  in  the  Uni 
versity  of  North  Carolina,  professor  of  English  and  political  science  in  Fred- 
ericksburg  College,  and  is  at  present  professor  of  Latin  in  Peace  Institute, 
Raleigh,  North  Carolina.  Professor  Stockard  has  contributed  poems  to  the 
best  magazines  and  is  the  author  of  a  volume  of  verse  entitled  "Fugitive 
Lines"  (1897)  and  of  "A  Study  of  Southern  Poetry,"  not  yet  published.] 

1  Cf.  the  title  of  the  poem.  2  I  shall  be  loyal  throughout  my  life. 


TO  AN  OLD    OAK  497 

AT  FORDHAM1 

(THE  HOME  OF  EDGAR  ALLAN  POE) 

[FROM  "FUGITIVE  LINES.    BY  HENRY  JEROME  STOCKARD."     1897.] 

NOT  here  he  dwelt,  but  down  some  path  unknown 

That  winding  sinks  into  night's  spectral  vale, 

Where  prisoned,  uneasy  winds  forever  wail, 
And  plangent  seas  on  dolorous  shores  intone. 
His  charmed,  cloud-builded  home  was  there  upthrown, 

Engirt  by  marsh  and  mere  and  wastes  of  bale ; 

No  foot  save  his  e'er  trod  those  reaches  pale ; 
His  were  those  tracts  abandoned,  his  alone. 
There  with  hushed  breath  he  heard  the  thin,  far  strains 

Of  Israfel  steal  through  his  haunted  room, 
Or  caught  the  nearer,  clearer  clanl^  of  chains  : 

Now  o'er  him  leaned  Lenore  in  deathless  bloom ; 
Now,  while  the  blood  slowed,  freezing  in  his  veins, 

Some  goblin  shivered  in  upon  the  gloom  ! 2 

TO  AN  OLD  OAK 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

BRAVE  monarch  of  the  forest,  armies  warred 
Around  thee  once ;  the  scathful  shot  and  shell 
Like  bolts  of  death  among  thy  branches  fell, 

And  thee  unto  thine  utmost  being  jarred. 

Yet  thou,  though  wasted  then  and  battle-scarred,  — 
Seared  even  with  the  naming  breath  of  hell,  — 
Art  stancher  grown  —  and  thou  art  typical 

Of  this  great  Union  in  whose  cause  was  marred 

1  Copyright,   1897,  by   Henry  Jerome  Stockard.    The  three  poems  are  here 
printed  by  kind  permission  of  the  author  and  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 

2  The  student  may  compare  with  this  sonnet  John  Henry  Boner's  well-known 
poem  "  Poe's  Cottage  at  Fordham  "  (given  in  Stedman's  "American  Anthology  ") 
and  Walter  Malone's  stanzas  bearing  the  same  title. 

2K 


498  MRS.  DANSKE  D AND  RIDGE 

Thy  massive  bole  :  —  those  wounds  are  healed,  and  all 
The  closer  for  them  now  thy  bark  doth  bind ; 
While  'neath  thy  corrugations  so  are  twined 

And  locked  'round  many  a  deep-embodied  ball 
The  stern  warped  fibres  of  thy  life,  that  vain 
Were  brawniest  blows  to  wedge  thy  heart  in  twain  ! 


HOMER 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THAT  conjuring  name  doth  change  the  centuries, 
And  the  enchanted  pagan  world  restore  ! 
Old  Triton  and  the  Nereids  sport  before 

Poseidon's  chariot  storming  down  the  seas. 

Pan  blows  his  mellow  reed,  and  to  the  breeze 
The  nautilus  unfurls  his  sail  once  more ; 
While  silver  voices  wake  the  waters  o'er 

'Mid  asphodels  on  Anthemusia's 1  leas. 

I  hear  the  Odyssey  and  Iliad  rise 

With  deeper  rhythm  than  that  of  Chios'  surge, 
And  there  upon  the  blue  ^Egean's  verge, 
Unchanging  while  the  centuries  increase, 

After  three  thousand  years,  before  me  lies 

The  unveiled  shore  of  old  sea- cinctured  Greece  ! 


MRS.    DANSKE   DANDRIDGE 

[BORN  in  1859,  as  Danske  Bedinger,  in  Copenhagen,  Denmark,  where  her 
father,  Henry  Bedinger,  was  United  States  Minister.  In  1877  she  married  Mr. 
Stephen  Dandridge  of  Shepherdstown,  West  Virginia,  where  she  still  resides. 
She  has  published  "Joy  and  Other  Poems"  (1888;  second  and  enlarged  edition, 
1900)  and  "Rose  Brake"  (1890).] 

1 1.e.  Anthemussa,  which,  according  to  a  fragment  of  Hesiod,  was  an  island  in 
the  Tyrrhenian  Sea,  the  abode  of  the  Sirens. 


GLAMOUR-LAND  499 

SILENCE1 
[FROM  "Jov  AND  OTHER  POEMS."    SECOND  ENLARGED  EDITION,  1900.] 

COME  down  from  thine  aerial  height, 

Spirit  of  the  summer  night ! 

Come  softly  stepping  from  the  slender  Moon, 

Where  thou  dost  lie  upon  her  gentle  breast, 
And  bring  a  boon 

Of  silence  and  of  solace  for  our  rest. 

Or  lift  us,  lift  our  souls  to  that  bright  place 
Where  she  doth  hide  her  face  ; 

Lap  us  in  light  and  cooling  fleece,  and  steep 
Our  hearts  in  stillness ;  drench  in  drowsy  dreams ; 
Grant  us  the  pleasant  languor  that  beseems, 

And  rock  our  sleep. 

Quell  thy  barbed  lightning  in  the  sombre  west ; 

Quiet  thy  thunder-dogs  that  bay  the  Moon ; 
Soothe  the  day's  fretting,  like  a  tender  nurse ; 

Breathe  on  our  spirits  till  they  be  in  tune  : 
Were  it  not  best 
To  hush  all  noises  in  the  universe, 

And  bless  with  solemn  quietude,  that  thus 

The  still,  small  voice  of  God  might  speak  to  us  ? 

GLAMOUR-LAND 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

AH,  dim,  lost  Glamour-land, 
On  whose  confines  I  stand, 

Longing  for  home  that  shall  be  home  no  more  ! 
There  stood  my  palace  grand, 
Where  now,  on  every  hand, 

The  fiery  swords  of  seraphs  guard  the  door. 

1  Copyright,  1900,  by  Danske  Dandridge.    The  five  poems  are  here  printed  by 
kind  permission  of  the  author  and  the  publishers,  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 


5<DO  MRS.  DANSKE  DANDRIDGE 

There  once  I  roamed  to  cull 
Dear  hopes  more  beautiful 

Than  siren  thoughts  that  musing  monks  resist 
Nothing  too  far,  or  fair, 
But  its  mirage  was  there 

Pictured  upon  the  valley's  rosy  mist. 

There  each  sweet  day  I  heard 
Songs  of  a  brooding  bird 

Telling  of  purest  pleasure  yet  to  be  : 
There,  by  the  singing  streams, 
Faint  forms  of  darling  dreams 

Loitered  and  lingered,  hand  in  hand  with  me. 

Ah,  dim,  dear  Fancy-land! 
Thy  welkin  rainbow-spanned ; 

The  softened  light  of  halcyon  hours  o'erpast 
Fading  away,  away, 
All  the  expanse  is  gray 

As  fades  the  moon  on  nights  too  fair  to  last. 


THE   PRELUDE 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

WHAT  is  astir  where  the  shadows  are  dense? 
Something  that  baffles  the  curious  sense  ; 
Something  that  shimmers,  and  whispers,  and  sighs 
Something  that  glimmers  to  far-reaching  eyes ; 
The  Shape  of  a  song,  or  the  Soul  of  a  stream, 
Or  a  Being  awake  from  a  beautiful  dream, 
Is  pulsing,  and  stirring,  and  making  prelude, 
In  the  reverent  heart  of  the  reverent  wood. 

Is  it  a  word  that  I  never  have  heard? 
Is  it  a  hint  of  a  jubilant  bird 
That  never  was  hinted  before? 


THE  SPIRIT   OF  THE  FALL  501 

Oh,  what  can  it  be  that  is  new  in  the  wood? 
That  thrills  with  its  meaning,  but  half  understood, 

A  rapture,  and  more  ? 
A  sound  is  created  that  never  the  breeze 
Has  carried  till  now  through  the  city  of  trees  : 
Fresh  tidings  from  God  —  a  new  message  —  is  sent 
Through  I  know  not  what  delicate  instrument. 

And  I  would  I  had  senses  as  fine  as  a  sprite, 
To  hear  and  interpret  the  message  aright : 
But  I  think,  oh  I  think,  as  I  fall  on  my  knees, 
God  is  walking  and  talking  again  'mid  the  trees. 


THE   SPIRIT  OF  THE   FALL 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

COME,  on  thy  swaying  feet, 

Wild  Spirit  of  the  Fall ! 

With  wind-blown  skirts,  loose  hair  of  russet  brown 
Crowned  with  bright  berries  of  the  bitter-sweet. 
Trip  a  light  measure  with  the  hurrying  leaf, 

Straining  thy  few  late  roses  to  thy  breast : 
With  laughter  overgay,  sweet  eyes  drooped  down, 
That  none  may  guess  thy  grief : 

Dare  not  to  pause  for  rest 
Lest  the  slow  tears  should  gather  to  their  fall. 

But  when  the  cold  Moon  rises  o'er  the  hill, 
The  last  numb  crickets  cease,  and  all  is  still, 

Face  down  thou  liest  on  the  frosty  ground, 
Strewed  with  thy  fortune's  wreck,  alas,  thine  all  J 

******** 

There,  on  a  winter  dawn,  thy  corse  I  found, 
Lone  Spirit  of  the  Fall. 


502  ROBERT  LOVEMAN 

AS   YOU  WENT   DOWN   THE   ROAD 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

As  you  went  down  the  road,  dear, 

As  you  went  down  the  road, 
How  chill  the  breeze  began  to  blow  — 

My  heart  took  up  its  load ; 
The  skies  that  had  been  blue  and  bright, 
How  fast  they  darkened  into  night. 

And  will  you  ne'er  turn  back,  dear? 

And  shall  we  never  meet? 
Do  no  glad  cries  come  up  the  road  ? 

No  swift  returning  feet  ? 
Halfway  to  meet  you  I  would  run, 
Though  long  the  way  and  set  the  sun. 

Alas  !  the  days  go  on,  dear  : 

How  dulled  the  daylight  seems, 
Since  you  went  down  the  road,  dear, 

And  left  me  to  my  dreams ; 
Left  me  to  bear  my  weary  load, 
As  I  toil  after,  down  the  road. 

ROBERT   LOVEMAN 

[BoRN  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  April  n,  1864.  He  was  educated  in  Dalton, 
Georgia,  where  he  still  resides.  He  travelled  and  studied  and  devoted  himself 
to  literature.  His  published  volumes  are,  "Poems"  (1889,  1893,  1897),  "A 
Book  of  Verses"  (1900),  "The  Gates  of  Silence  with  Interludes  of  Song" 
(1903),  and  "Songs  from  a  Georgia  Garden"  (1904).] 

THE   RACES   RISE  AND  FALL1 
[FROM  "THE  GATES  OF  SILENCE  WITH  INTERLUDES  OF  SONG."     1903.] 

THE  races  rise  and  fall, 
The  nations  come  and  go, 

1  Copyright,  1903,  by  Robert  Loveman.  The  four  poems  are  here  printed  by 
kind  permission  of  the  author  and  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 


A  FLAKE  AT  A    TIME  503 

Time  tenderly  doth  cover  all 
With  violets  and  snow. 

The  mortal  tide  moves  on 

To  some  immortal  shore, 
Past  purple  peaks  of  dusk  and  dawn, 

Into  the  evermore. 

WHAT   OF   THE   MEN   OF   MARS? 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

WHAT  of  the  men  of  Mars, 

And  maids  of  Mercury  ? 
What  of  the  loves  and  wars 

These  swirling  systems  see? 

How  do  the  Moon-folk  fare? 

What  ships  ply  Saturn's  seas? 
And  what  brave  races  rare 

Throng  the  proud  Pleiades? 

SONG 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

BACK  to  the  siren  South, 

Each  mad  red  rose  aglow, 
To  the  vintage  of  her  mouth, 

Where  purple  kisses  grow. 

Back  to  her  Orient  eyes, 

Her  bosom's  buds  ablow; 
Languorous  land  of  ardent  skies, 

What  should  the  cold  North  know  ? 

A  FLAKE  AT  A  TIME1 

[FROM  "  SONGS  FROM  A  GEORGIA  GARDEN  AND  ECHOES  FROM  THE  GATES 
OF  SILENCE."     1904.] 

A  FLAKE  at  a  time  the  dawn  drifts  down, 
Filling  the  world  with  light ; 

1  Copyright,  1904,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company.     The  four  poems  are  here 
printed  by  kind  permission  of  the  publishers  and  the  author. 


504  ROBERT  LOVEMAN 

Heart  of  my  heart,  in  dreams  of  thee 
I  smiled  away  the  night. 

And  now  'tis  morn,  the  garish  sun 

Doth  flaunt  his  lurid  beams; 
Speed  day,  speed  light  ;  come  quickly,  night, 

Bringing  again  my  dreams. 

I   PINED   IN   A  PALACE   GRAND 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 


in  a  palace  grand, 
Amid  the  fruits  of  Samarcand, 
The  fountains  murmured  wearily,  — 
My  dear  Muse  had  forsaken  me. 

Confined  in  a  dungeon  I 
Revelled  in  dreams  of  ecstasy  ;  — 
By  day,  by  night,  within  my  soul, 
My  Muse  sang  like  an  oriole. 

IN  ANCIENT   GREECE 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

IN  ancient  Greece  sweet  Sappho  turned 
Her  thoughts  to  words  that  breathed  and  burned, 
O  temples,  lutes,  and  incense  urn'd 
In  ancient  Greece. 

Art,  learning,  grace,  and  beauty's  bliss 
Blossomed  in  the  Acropolis,  — 
But  lo,  the  woman,  tender,  true, 

Who  leans  to  me  with  lips  of  dew, 
And  love  immortal  in  her  eyes  — 
Thank  God,  I  lived  not  with  the  wise 
In  ancient  Greece. 


UNITED  505 

THE   LILY  WHISPERED 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  lily  whispered :  "  From  the  sod 

I  leap  into  the  light ; 
Thou  churlish  clod,  to  doubt  thy  God, 

Nor  know  the  noon  from  night. 

"  Look  where  I  lay,  but  yesterday, 

O  thou  of  feeble  faith,  — 
So  thou  shalt  climb,  and  soar  sublime 

From  the  swift  pause  of  death." 

BENJAMIN    SLEDD 

[BORN  in  Bedford  County,  Virginia,  August  27,  1864.  He  graduated  at 
Washington  and  Lee  University  in  1886,  studied  at  the  Johns  Hopkins  Uni 
versity  the  next  year,  and  became  in  1888  professor  of  English  in  Wake 
Forest  College,  North  Carolina,  which  position  he  still  holds.  He  has  edited 
text-books  and  published  two  volumes  of  poems,  "  From  Cliff  and  Scaur  " 
(1897)  and  "Tne  Watchers  of  the  Hearth"  (1901).] 

UNITED1 

• 

[FROM  "  FROM  CLIFF  AND  SCAUR.    A  COLLECTION  OF  VERSE."    1897.] 


ALL  day  it  shook  the  land  —  grim  battle's  thunder  tread ; 
And  fields  at  morning  green,  at  eve  are  trampled  red. 
But  now,  on  the  stricken  scene,  twilight  and  quiet  fall ; 
Only,  from  hill  to  hill,  night's  tremulous  voices  call ; 
And  comes  from  far  along,  where  campfires  warning  burn, 
The  dread,  hushed  sound  which  tells  of  morning's  sad  return. 

1  Copyright,  1897,  by  Benjamin  Sledd.    The  two  poems  are  here  printed  by  kind 
permission  of  the  author  and  G,  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 


506  BENJAMIN  SLEDD 


Timidly  nature  awakens";  the  stars  come  out  overhead, 

And  a  flood  of  moonlight  breaks  like  a  voiceless  prayer  for  the 

dead. 

And  steals  the  blessed  wind,  like  Odin's  fairest  daughter,1 
In  viewless  ministry,  over  the  fields  of  slaughter ; 
Soothing  the  smitten  life,  easing  the  pang  of  death, 

And  bearing  away  on  high  the  passing  warrior's  breath. 

\ 

in 

Two  youthful  forms  are  lying  apart  from  the  thickest  fray, 
The  one  in  Northern  blue,  the  other  in  Southern  gray. 
Around  his  lifeless  foeman  the  arms  of  each  are  pressed, 
And  the  head  of  one  is  pillowed  upon  the  other's  breast. 
As  if  two  loving  brothers,  wearied  with  work  and  play, 
Had  fallen  asleep  together,  at  close  of  the  summer  day. 
Foemen  were  they,  and  brothers?  —  Again  the  battle's  din, 
With  its  sullen,  cruel  answer,  from  far  away  breaks  in. 

DAWN   AND   THE  PEAK 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

HIGH  over  all  one  huge  peak  stands, 
Flinging  his  Titan  hands 
To  grasp  the  vale,  a  glowing  cup, 
And  to  the  morning  holds  it  up ; 
Then  leaning  its  lips  to  the  river's  edge, 
Pours  to  the  sun  earth's  sacred  pledge. 

TO  SAPPHO2 

[FROM  "THE  WATCHERS  OF  THE  HEARTH."    1902.] 

MIGHT  each  but  claim  of  Time's  unfeeling  hand 
Some  treasure  reft  of  man  so  long  ago 

1  Skuld,  one  of  the  Norns  of  Scandinavian  mythology. 

2  Copyright,  1901,  by  Benjamin  Sledd.     The  two  poems  are  here  printed  by 
kind  permission  of  the  author  and  Richard  G.  Badger  £  Co. 


THE   CHILDREN  507 

That  fancy's  utmost  can  but  dimly  show 
The  glory  of  the  gifts  we  would  demand,  — 
What  gift  were  mine  ?  —  In  that  far  Lesbian  land 
To  pluck  from  some  forgotten  tomb  a  scroll 
Writ  with  those  songs  of  woe  and  passion,  —  whole, 
In  characters  of  Sappho's  own  sweet  hand. 

Or  yet  to  lie  one  hour  upon  the  shore,     „ 
While  far  off  come  and  go  the  long-prored  ships, 
And  watch  that  hand  divine  flash  o'er  the  lyre, 
And  hear  the  numbers  flow  from  her  wild  lips, — 
To  drink  of  her  dark,  regal  eyes  the  fire, 
And,  passing,  feel  no  meaner  rapture  more. 

THE  CHILDREN 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

No  more  of  work  !     Yet  ere  I  seek  my  bed, 

Noiseless  into  the  children's  room  I  go, 

With  its  four  little  couches  all  a-row, 
And  bend  a  moment  over  each  dear  head. 

Those  soft,  round  arms  upon  the  pillow  spread, 
Those  dreaming  lips  babbling  more  than  we  know, 
One  tearful,  smothered  sigh  of  baby  woe  — 

Fond  words  of  chiding,  would  they  were  unsaid  1 

And  while  on  each  moist  brow  a  kiss  I  lay, 

With  tremulous  rapture  grown  almost  to  pain, 
Close  at  my  side  I  hear  a  whispered  name  :  — 
Our  long-lost  babe,  who  with  the  dawning  came, 

And  in  the  midnight  went  from  us  again. 

And  with  bowed  head,  one  good  night  more  I  say. 


MADISON   JULIUS   CAWEIN 

[BORN  in  Louisville,  Kentucky,  March  23,  1865.     He  graduated  from  the 
high  school  there,  and  devoted  himself  to  poetry  and  the  study  of  literature. 


508  MADISON  JULIUS  CAWEIff 

In  1887  he  published  "  Blooms  of  the  Berry,"  which  gained  the  wai 
dation  of  Mr.  William  Dean  Howells  in  the  "  Editor's  Study"  of 
Magazine  for  May,  1888.  He  has  since  issued  between  fifteen  and  twenty  vol 
umes  of  verse,  among  them  an  elaborate  poem,  "  Accolon  of  Gaul"  (1889), 
"Moods  and  Memories"  (1892),  "Red  Leaves  and  Roses"  (1893),  "The 
Garden  of  Dreams"  (1896),  "Undertones"  (1896),  and  "Weeds  by  the 
Wall"  (1901).  A  volume  of  selections  from  his  poetry,  entitled  "Kentucky 
Poems,"  with  an  introduction  by  Mr.  Edmund  Gosse,  was  issued  in  1902.  In 
1895  Mr.  Cawein  published  a  volume  of  translations  from  German  poetry 
under  the  title  of  "The  White  Snake."  For  sympathetic  criticism  of  his 
work,  which  has  covered  with  maturing  art  a  large  variety  of  poetic  forms,  see, 
besides  the  essays  mentioned  above,  the  study  by  Professor  William  Henry 
Hulme  hi  «  Southern  Writers,"  VoL  IL] 

WOOD-WORDS* 
[FROM  "THE  GARDEN  OF  DREAMS."*    1896.] 

THE  spirits  of  the  forest, 
That  to  the  winds  give  voice  — 
I  lie  the  livelong  April  day 
And  wonder  what  it  is  they  say 
That  makes  the  leaves  rejoice. 

The  spirits  of  the  forest, 
That  breathe  in  bud  and  bloom  — 
I  walk  within  the  black-haw  brake 
And  wonder  how  it  is  they  make 
The  bubbles  of  perfume. 

The  spirits  of  the  forest, 
That  live  in  every  spring —   . 
I  lean  above  the  brook's  bright  blue 
And  wonder  what  it  is  they  do 
That  makes  the  water  sing. 

The  spirits  of  the  forest, 

That  haunt  the  sun's  green  glow  — 

1  Copyright,  1896,  by  John  P.  Morton  &  Co.    The  seven  poems  are  here  printed 
by  kind  permission  of  the  author  and  the  publishers. 

2  The  selection  is  the  first  section  of  the  poem. 


RAIN  AND    WIND  509 

Down  fungus  ways  of  fern  I  steal 
And  wonder  what  they  can  conceal, 
In  dews,  that  twinkle  so. 

The  spirits  of  the  forest, 
They  hold  me,  heart  and  hand  — 
And,  oh  !  the  bird  they  send  by  light, 
The  jack-o'-lantern  gleam  by  night, 
To  guide  to  Fairyland  ! 


RAIN   AND   WIND 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  HEAR  the  hoofs  of  horses 

Galloping  over  the  hill, 

Galloping  on  and  galloping  on, 

When  all  the  night  is  shrill 

With  wind  and  rain  that  beats  the  pane  — 

And  my  soul  with  awe  is  still. 

For  every  dripping  window 

Their  headlong  rush  makes  bound, 

Galloping  up,  and  galloping  by, 

Then  back  again  and  around, 

Till  the  gusty  roofs  ring  with  their  hoofs, 

And  the  draughty  cellars  sound. 

And  then  I  hear  black  horsemen 

Hallooing  in  the  night ; 

Hallooing  and  hallooing, 

They  ride  o'er  vale  and  height, 

And  the  branches  snap  and  the  shutters  clap 

With  the  fury  of  their  flight. 

Then  at  each  door  a  horseman,  — 
With  burly  bearded  lip 
Hallooing  through  the  keyhole,  — 


5io  MADISON  JULIUS  CAWEIN 

Pauses  with  cloak  a- drip ; 

And  the  door-knob  shakes  and  the  panel  quakes 

'Neath  the  anger  of  his  whip. 

All  night  I  hear  their  gallop, 

And  their  wild  halloo 's  alarm ; 

The  tree-tops  sound  and  vanes  go  round 

In  forest  and  on  farm ; 

But  never  a  hair  of  a  thing  is  there  — 

Only  the  wind  and  the  storm. 


REST 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

UNDER  the  brindled  beech, 
Deep  in  the  mottled  shade, 
Where  the  rocks  hang  in  reach 
Flower  and  ferny  blade, 
Let  him  be  laid. 

Here  will  the  brooks,  that  rove 
Under  the  mossy  trees, 
Grave  with  the  music  of 
Underworld  melodies, 
Lap  him  in  peace. 

Here  will  the  winds,  that  blow 
Out  of  the  haunted  west, 
Gold  with  the  dreams  that  glow 
There  on  the  heaven's  breast, 
Lull  him  to  rest. 

Here  will  the  stars  and  moon, 
Silent  and  far  and  deep, 
Old  with  the  mystic  rune 
Of  the  slow  years  that  creep, 
Charm  him  with  sleep. 


HEART'S  ENCOURAGEMENT 

Under  the  ancient  beech, 
Deep  in  the  mossy  shade, 
Where  the  hill  moods  may  reach, 
Where  the  hill  dreams  may  aid, 
Let  him  be  laid. 


HEART'S   ENCOURAGEMENT 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

NOR  time  nor  all  his  minions 
Of  sorrow  or  of  pain, 
Shall  dash  with  vulture  pinions 
The  cup  she  fills  again 
Within  the  dream-dominions 
Of  life  where  she  doth  reign. 

Clothed  on  with  bright  desire 
And  hope  that  makes  her  strong, 
With  limbs  of  frost  and  fire, 
She  sits  above  all  wrong, 
Her  heart,  a  living  lyre, 
Her  love,  its  only  song. 

And  in  the  waking  pauses 

Of  weariness  and  care, 

And  when  the  dark  hour  draws  his 

Black  weapon  of  despair 

Above  effects  and  causes 

We  hear  its  music  there. 

The  longings  life  hath  near  it 
Of  love  we  yearn  to  see ; 
The  dreams  it  doth  inherit 
Of  immortality ; 
Are  callings  of  her  spirit 
To  something  yet  to  be. 


512  MADISON  JULIUS   CAWEIN 

LOVE  AND  A  DAY1 

[FROM  "WEEDS  BY  THE  WALL.      VERSES.      BY  MADISON  CAWEIN."      IQOI.] 

IN  girandoles  of  gladioles 

The  day  had  kindled  flame  ; 
And  Heaven  a  door  of  gold  and  pearl 
Unclosed  when  Morning,  —  like  a  girl, 
A  red  rose  twisted  in  a  curl,  — 

Down  sapphire  stairways  came. 
Said  I  to  Love  :  "What  must  I  do? 
What  shall  I  do?  what  can  I  do?  " 
Said  I  to  Love  :  "What  must  I  do? 

All  on  a  summer's  morning." 

Said  Love  to  me  :  "  Go  woo,  go  woo." 

Said  Love  to  me :  "  Go  woo. 
If  she  be  milking,  follow,  O  ! 
And  in  the  clover  hollow,  O  ! 
While  through  the  dew  the  bells  clang  clear, 
Just  whisper  it  into  her  ear, 

All  on  a  summer's  morning." 

REQUIESCAT 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  roses  mourn  for  her  who  sleeps 

Within  the  tomb ; 
For  her  each  lily-flower  weeps 

Dew  and  perfume. 
In  each  neglected  flower-bed 
Each  blossom  droops  its  lovely  head,  — 
They  miss  her  touch,  they  miss  her  tread, 

Her  face  of  bloom, 

Of  happy  bloom. 

1  Copyright,  1901,  by  Madison  J.  Cawein. 


REQUIESCAT  513 

The  very  breezes  grieve  for  her, 

A  lonely  grief; 
For  her  each  tree  is  sorrower, 

Each  blade  and  leaf. 
The  foliage  rocks  itself  and  sighs, 
And  to  its  woe  the  wind  replies,  — 
They  miss  her  girlish  laugh  and  cries, 

Whose  life  was  brief, 

Was  very  brief. 

The  sunlight,  too,  seems  pale  with  care, 

Or  sick  with  woe ;    , 
The  memory  haunts  it  of  her  hair, 

Its  golden  glow. 

No  more  within  the  bramble-brake 
The  sleepy  bloom  is  kissed  awake  — 
The  sun  is  sad  for  her  dear  sake, 

Whose  head  lies  low, 

Lies  dim  and  low. 

The  bird,  that  sang  so  sweet,  is  still 

At  dusk  and  dawn ; 
No  more  it  makes  the  silence  thrill 

Of  wood  and  lawn. 
In  vain  the  buds,  when  it  is  near, 
Open  each  pink  and  perfumed  ear,  — 
The  song  it  sings  she  will  not  hear 

Who  now  is  gone, 

Is  dead  and  gone. 

Ah,  well  she  sleeps  who  loved  them  well, 

The  birds  and  bowers ; 
The  fair,  the  young,  the  lovable, 

Who  once  was  ours. 
Alas  !  that  loveliness  must  pass  ! 
Must  come  to  lie  beneath  the  grass  ! 
That  youth  and  joy  must  fade,  alas  ! 

And  die  like  flowers, 

Earth's  sweetest  flowers ! 

2L 


514  MADISON  JULIUS  CAWEIN 

BEAUTY  AND  ART 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

THE  gods  are  dead ;  but  still  for  me 

Lives  on  in  wildwood  brook  and  tree 
Each  myth,  each  old  divinity. 

For  me  still  laughs  among  her  rocks 
The  Naiad ;  and  the  Dryad's  locks 
Drop  perfume  on  the  wild-flower  flocks. 

The  Satyr  hoof  still  prints  the  loam ; 

And,  whiter  than  the  wind-blown  foam, 
The  Oread  haunts  her  mountain  home. 

To  him,  whose  mind  is  fain  to  dwell 
With  loveliness  no  time  can  quell, 
All  things  are  real,  imperishable. 

To  him  —  whatever  facts  may  say  — 

Who  sees  the  soul  beneath  the  clay, 
Is  proof  of  a  diviner  day. 

The  very  stars  and  flowers  preach 
A  gospel  old  as  God,  and  teach 
Philosophy  a  child  may  reach; 

That  cannot  die,  that  shall  not  cease, 

That  lives  through  idealities 
Of  beauty,  ev'n  as  Rome  and  Greece ; 

That  lifts  the  soul  above  the  clod, 

And,  working  out  some  period 

Of  art,  is  part  and  proof  of  God.1 

1  The  changes  from  plural  to  singular  in  the  verbs  of  this  stanza  are  made  with 
Mr.  Cawein's  sanction. 


OCTOBER  IN  TENNESSEE  515 


WALTER   MALONE 

[BORN  in  De  Soto  County,  Mississippi,  February  10,  1866.  He  graduated  at 
the  University  of  Mississippi  in  1887,  practised  law  in  Memphis,  Tennessee,  for 
the  next  ten  years,  and  engaged  in  literary  pursuits  in  New  York  City  from  1897 
to  1900,  when  he  resumed  his  law  practice  in  Memphis,  where  he  now  resides. 
He  has  published  "Claribel  and  Other  Poems"  (1882),  "The  Outcast  and 
Other  Poems  "  (1885),  "Narcissus  and  Other  Poems  "  (1892),  "  Songs  of  Dusk 
and  Dawn  "  (1894), "  Songs  of  December  and  June  "  (1896),  "  Songs  of  North 
and  South  "  (1900),  and  "  Poems  "  (1904)  containing  the  contents  of  most  of 
the  preceding  volumes.  In  1897  he  published  a  volume  of  short  stories  en 
titled  "The  Coming  of  the  King."  In  1905  he  was  raised  to  the  bench.] 


OCTOBER   IN   TENNESSEE1 

[FROM  "  POEMS.    BY  WALTER  MALONE."     1904.] 

FAR,  far  away,  beyond  a  hazy  height, 

The  turquoise  skies  are  hung  in  dreamy  sleep ; 

Below,  the  fields  of  cotton,  fleecy-white, 
Are  spreading  like  a  mighty  flock  of  sheep. 

Now,  like  Aladdin  of  the  days  of  old, 

October  robes  the  weeds  in  purple  gowns ; 

He  sprinkles  all  the  sterile  fields  with  gold, 
And  all  the  rustic  trees  wear  royal  crowns. 

The  straggling  fences  all  are  interlaced 

With  pink  and  azure  morning-glory  blooms, 

The  starry  asters  glorify  the  waste, 

While  grasses  stand  on  guard  with  pikes  and  plumes. 

Yet  still  amid  the  splendor  of  decay 

The  chill  winds  call  for  blossoms  that  are  dead, 

The  cricket  chirps  for  sunshine  passed  away, 
And  lovely  Summer  songsters  that  have  fled. 

1  Copyright,  1904,  by  Walter  Malone.     The  three  poems  are  here  printed  by 
kind  permission  of  the  author  and  the  publishers,  Paul  &  Douglass  Co. 


516  WALTER  MALONE 

And  lonesome  in  a  haunt  of  withered  vines, 
Amid  the  flutter  of  her  withered  leaves, 

Pale  Summer  for  her  perished  Kingdom  pines, 
And  all  the  glories  of  her  golden  sheaves. 

In  vain  October  wooes  her  to  remain 
Within  the  palace  of  his  scarlet  bowers, 

Entreats  her  to  forget  her  heart-break  pain, 
And  weep  no  more  about  her  faded  flowers. 

At  last  November,  like  a  Conqueror,  comes 
To  storm  the  golden  city  of  his  foe  ; 

We  hear  his  rude  winds,  like  the  roll  of  drums, 
Bringing  their  desolation  and  their  woe. 

The  sunset,  like  a  vast  vermilion  flood, 
Splashes  its  giant  glowing  waves  on  high, 

The  forest  flames  with  foliage  red  as  blood, 
A  conflagration  sweeping  to  the  sky. 

Then  all  the  treasures  of  that  brilliant  state 
Are  gathered  in  a  mighty  funeral  pyre  ; 

October,  like  a  King  resigned  to  fate, 
Dies  in  his  forests,  with  their  sunset  fire. 


A  PORTRAIT  OF   HENRY  TIMROD 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

STRANGE  eyes  gaze  sadly  from  that  weary  face, 
Beneath  a  brow  that  shows  the  seal  of  care ; 

Defeat  and  Disappointment  leave  their  trace 
Upon  the  youthful  visage  pictured  there. 

The  same  old  story  here  is  handed  down  — 

The  true-born  poet  and  the  same  old  doom  — 
The  bard  who  starves  while  rhymesters  wear  the  crown, 
Who  finds  his  throne,  erected  in  a  tomb. 


NAPOLEON  AND  BYRON  517 

Gone  are  the  glories  of  your  halcyon  days, 
Gone  are  the  heroes  whom  you  sung  of  yore ; 

Their  banners  in  the  skies  no  longer  blaze, 
Their  fervent  shouts  are  stilled  forevermore. 

No  more  their  white  steeds  paw  the  bloody  field, 
No  more  their  trumpets  rouse  the  raptured  soul, 

No  more  their  ranks  in  fiery  fight  are  wheeled, 
No  more  their  drums  like  sullen  thunders  roll. 

Yet  as  I  view  your  old-time  picture,  all 

The  proud  past  blossoms,  though  your  day  has  fled ; 
Once  more  I  hear  your  Stuart's  battle-call, 

And  see  your  Stonewall  rising  from  the  dead. 

I  see  their  blazoned  banners  float  like  fire, 

I  hear  their  shouts  sweep  down  the  perished  years ; 

I  hear  once  more  the  throbbing  of  your  lyre, 
Ecstatic  with  a  nation's  hopes  and  fears. 

And  foes  with  friends  now  come  to  honor  you, 
O  poet,  free  from  blemish  and  from  blame, 

A  wreath  is  yours  as  long  as  men  are  true, 
As  long  as  Courage  wins  the  crown  of  Fame. 


NAPOLEON  AND  BYRON 
[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

Two  names  together  linked  forevermore ; 

Their  outward  march  no  kingdoms  can  retard ; 
Their  banners  flame  on  every  sea  and  shore, 

Immortal  chieftain  and  immortal  bard. 

Napoleon's  name  no  longer  awes  the  world ; 

His  legions  long  ago  have  shared  his  doom, 
His  stately  empire  in  the  dust  is  hurled, 

His  aspirations  ended  in  a  tomb. 


518  LUCIEN   V.  RULE 

And  Byron  lost  the  fickle  praise  of  men 
Amid  the  blossom  of  his  youthful  grace ; 

So  then  Death  came  to  drag  into  his  den 
The  classic  beauty  of  that  perfect  face. 

And  yet  they  live  triumphant  o'er  their  shrouds, 
In  song  and  story,  legend  and  romance. 

One,  like  an  eagle,  soars  above  the  clouds, 
One,  like  a  lion,  rules  the  soul  of  France. 

Sons  of  the  mountains  and  the  stormy  sea, 

With  souls  of  thunder,  and  with  hearts  of  flame, 

The  czar  of  heroes,  prince  of  poesy, 

The  Spouse  of  Beauty,  and  the  King  of  Fame. 


LUCIEN   V.   RULE 

[BORN  at  Goshen,  Kentucky,  August  29,  1871.  He  was  educated  at  the 
Kentucky  State  College  (1887-1888),  Lexington,  and  at  Centre  College  (1889- 
1893),  Danville,  Kentucky.  He  studied  for  the  ministry  but  later  went  into 
newspaper  work  for  five  or  six  years.  He  is  now  engaged  wholly  in  writing 
and  speaking  on  social  and  spiritual  problems.  He  has  published  "  The  Shrine 
of  Love  and  Other  Poems  "  (1898),  and  a  small  volume  of  social  and  political 
satires,  "  When  John  Bull  Comes  A-Courtin'  "  (1903).] 


ABSENCE1 
[FROM  "THE  SHRINE  OF  LOVE  AND  OTHER  POEMS."    1898.] 

THE  western  skies  are  starless  now; 

No  beauty's  beacon  sweet, 
When  evening  comes,  smiles  softly  down 

Where  happy  lovers  meet. 

1  Copyright,  1898,  by  Lucien  V.  Rule.    The  two  poems  are  here  printed  by  kind 
permission  of  the  author  and  Herbert  S.  Stone  &  Co. 


CONSTANCY 


519 


Thus  from  the  heavens  of  my  heart 

I  miss  a  tender  light : 
For  she  my  song,  and  hope,  and  cheer, 

Is  far  from  me  to-night. 


CONSTANCY 

[FROM  THE  SAME.] 

I  LOVE  thee  when  the  morning  hours 

Are  joyous,  fresh,  and  new ; 
I  love  thee  when  the  noontide  calm 

Descends  the  forest  through. 

I  love  thee  when  the  sunset  skies, 

Aflame  with  glory,  burn  ; 
I  love  thee  when  the  twilight  birds 

Back  to  their  nests  return. 

I  love  thee  when  the  silvery  moon 

Smiles  down  on*  vale  and  hill ; 
I  love  thee  when  the  midnight  stars 

Are  glowing  far  and  still. 

I  love  thee  when  the  dawning  east 

Proclaims  the  darkness  o'er ; 
Ah,  sweetheart,  wouldst  thou  know  the  truth? 

I  love  thee  evermore. 


APPENDIX 

THE  usually  received  version  of  O'Hara's  famous  elegy  is  so  different  from 
that  given  in  the  text  (see  page  281)  that  it  has  seemed  best  to  reproduce 
it  here. 

THE   BIVOUAC   OF  THE   DEAD 

THE  muffled  drum's  sad  roll  has  beat 

The  soldier's  last  tattoo ; 
No  more  on  Life's  parade  shall  meet 

That  brave  and  fallen  few. 
On  Fame's  eternal  camping-ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  Glory  guards,  with  solemn  round, 

The  bivouac  of  the  dead. 

No  rumor  of  the  foe's  advance 

Now  swells  upon  the  wind; 
No  troubled  thought  at  midnight  haunts 

Of  loved  ones  left  behind ; 
No  vision  of  the  morrow's  strife 

The  warrior's  dream  alarms ; 
No  braying  horn  nor  screaming  fife 

At  dawn  shall  call  to  arms. 

Their  shivered  swords  are  red  with  rust, 

Their  plumed  heads  are  bowed ; 
Their  haughty  banner,  trailed  in  dust, 

Is  now  their  martial  shroud. 
And  plenteous  funeral  tears  have  washed 

The  red  stains  from  each  brow, 
And  the  proud  forms,  by  battle  gashed, 

Are  free  from  anguish  now. 
521 


522  APPENDIX 

The  neighing  troop,  the  flashing  blade, 

The  bugle's  stirring  blast, 
The  charge,  the  dreadful  cannonade, 

The  din  and  shout,  are  past ; 
Nor  war's  wild  note  nor  glory's  peal 

Shall  thrill  with  fierce  delight 
Those  breasts  that  nevermore  may  feel 

The  rapture  of  the  fight. 

Like  the  fierce  northern  hurricane 

That  sweeps  his  great  plateau, 
Flushed  with  the  triumph  yet  to  gain, 

Came  down  the  serried  foe. 
Who  heard  the  thunder  of  the  fray 

Break  o'er  the  field  beneath, 
Knew  well  the  watchword  of  that  day 

Was  "  Victory  or  Death." 

Long  had  the  doubtful  conflict  raged 

O'er  all  that  stricken  plain, 
For  never  fiercer  fight  had  waged 

The  vengeful  blood  of  Spain ; 
And  still  the  storm  of  battle  blew, 

Still  swelled  the  gory  tide ; 
Not  long,  our  stout  old  chieftain l  knew, 

Such  odds  his  strength  could  bide. 

Twas  in  that  hour  his  stern  command 

Called  to  a  martyr's  grave 
The  flower  of  his  beloved  land, 

The  nation's  flag  to  save. 
By  rivers  of  their  fathers'  gore 

His  first-born  laurels  grew, 
And  well  he  deemed  the  sons  would  pour 

Their  lives  for  glory  too. 

i  General,  afterward  President,  Zachary  Taylor,  known  to  his  soldiers  as  "  Old 
Rough  and  Ready." 


APPENDIX  523 

Full  many  a  norther's  breath  has  swept 

O'er  Angostura's 1  plain, 
And  long  the  pitying  sky  has  wept 

Above  its  mouldered  slain. 
The  raven's  scream,  or  eagle's  flight, 

Or  shepherd's  pensive  lay, 
Alone  awakes  each  sullen  height 

That  frowned  o'er  that  dread  fray. 

Sons  of  the  Dark  and  Bloody  Ground,2 

Ye  must  not  slumber  there, 
Where  stranger  steps  and  tongues  resound 

Along  the  heedless  air. 
Your  own  proud  land's  heroic  soil 
.  Shall  be  your  fitter  grave  : 
She  claims  from  war  his  richest  spoil  — 

The  ashes  of  her  brave. 

Thus  'neath  their  parent  turf  they  rest, 

Far  from  the  gory  field, 
Borne  to  a  Spartan  mother's  breast 

On  many  a  bloody  shield ; 
The  sunshine  of  their  native  sky 

Smiles  sadly  on  them  here, 
And  kindred  eyes  and  hearts  watch  by 

The  heroes'  sepulchre. 

Rest  on,  embalmed  and  sainted  dead  ! 

Dear  as  the  blood  ye  gave ; 
No  impious  footstep  here  shall  tread 

The  herbage  of  your  grave  ; 
Nor  shall  your  glory  be  forgot 

While  Fame  her  record  keeps, 
Or  Honor  points  the  hallowed  spot 

Where  Valor  proudly  sleeps. 

1  Near  Buena  Vista.          2  The  meaning  of  the  Indian  word  "  Kentucky." 


524  APPENDIX 

Yon  marble  minstrel's  voiceless  stone 

In  deathless  song  shall  tell, 
When  many  a  vanished  age  hath  flown, 

The  story  how  ye  fell ; 
Nor  wreck,  nor  change,  nor  winter's  blight, 

Nor  Time's  remorseless  doom, 
Shall  dim  one  ray  of  glory's  light 

That  gilds  your  deathless  tomb. 


FINIS 


THE    PRINCIPLES    AND    PROGRESS    OF 
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University  of  Rochester  : 

"  It  was  a  happy  thought  of  Professor  Corson  to  bring  together,  with  adequate 
comment  and  explanation,  the  autobiographic  passages  in  Milton's  voluminous 
writings;  and  the  book  cannot  fail  to  be  useful." 

—  Professor  J.  H.  GILMORE. 

ENGLISH  PROSE  SELECTIONS 

Edited  by   HENRY   CRAIK.     Cloth.     5  vols.      Students'   Edition.      Each 
$1.10. 

Vol.       I.  The  Fourteenth  to  the  Sixteenth  Century. 

Vol.     II.  The  Sixteenth  Century  to  the  Restoration. 

Vol.  III.  The  Seventeenth  Century. 

Vol.    IV.  The  Eighteenth  Century. 

Vol.     V.  The  Nineteenth  Century. 


A  HISTORY  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  LITERA» 
TURE  (1660=1780) 

By  EDMUND  GOSSE,  M.A.,   Clark   Lecturer  in   English    Literature  at 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge.     Cloth.     i2mo.     $1.00. 

Contents. — Poetry  after  the  Restoration;  Drama  after  the  Restoration; 
Prose  after  the  Restoration;  Pope;  Swift  and  the  Deists;  Defoe  and  the  Essay 
ists;  The  Dawn  of  Naturalism  in  Poetry;  The  Novelists;  Johnson  and  the 
Philosophers;  The  Poets  of  the  Decadence;  The  Prose  of  the  Decadence;  Con* 
elusion,  Bibliography,  Index. 

OSWALD  CRAWFORD,  in  London  Academy  : 

"  Mr.  Gosse's  book  is  one  for  the  student  because  of  its  fulness,  its  trust 
worthiness,  and  its  thorough  soundness  of  criticism;  and  one  for  the  general 
reader  because  of  its  pleasantness  and  interest.  It  is  a  book,  indeed,  not  easy  to 
put  down  or  to  part  with." 


A   HISTORY   OF  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY  LITERA 
TURE 

By  GEORGE  SAINTSBURY.    Cloth.     Students' Edition.     $1.50. 
Swarthmore  College,  Pa.: 

"  His  characterizations  are  ever  fresh  and  exact  and  felicitous.  There  was  a 
great  need  of  a  work  covering  the  whole  century.  That  need  is  now  supplied, 
and  Mr.  Saintsbury  dominates  the  field." 

—  Professor  J.  RUSSELL  HAYES. 


A  HISTORY  OF  ELIZABETHAN  LITERATURE 

By  the  same  Author.     Cloth.     Students'  Edition.     $I.OO. 

M.  R.  ANDERSON,  of  the  Leland  Stanford  Jr.  University,  in  The  Dial : 

"Mr.  Saintsbury  has  produced  a  most  useful,  first-hand  survey  —  compre 
hensive,  compendious,  and  spirited — of  that  unique  period  of  literary  history 
when  'all  the  muses  still  were  in  their  prime.'  One  knows  not  where  else  to 
look  for  so  well-proportioned  and  well-ordered  conspectus  of  the  astonishingly 
varied  and  rich  products  of  the  teeming  English  mind  during  the  century  that 
begins  with  Tottel's  Miscellany  and  the  birth  of  Bacon,  and  closes  with  the 
Restoration." 

A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

By  the  same  Author.     Cloth.     8vo.     $1.50. 

The  object  of  this  book  is  to  g've,  from  the  literary  point  of  view  only,  and 
from  the  direct  reading  of  the  literature  itself,  as  full,  as  well-supplied,  and  as 
conveniently  arranged  a  storehouse  of  facts  as  could  be  provided. 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

By  FRANCIS  HOVEY  STODDARD,  Professor  of  English  Literature  in 
New  York  University.     Cloth.     i2mo.    $1.50. 

THE  ENGLISH  POETS.     Selections 

With  Critical  Introductions  by  Various  Writers,  and  a  General  Introduction 

by  MATTHEW    ARNOLD.      Edited  by  THOMAS    HUMPHREY  WARD, 

M.A.     In  4  volumes.     Students' Edition.     $1.00  each. 

Vol.     I.    Chaucer  to  Donne.  Vol.  III.   Addison  to  Blake. 

Vol.  II.    Ben  Jonson  to  Dryden.  Vol.  IV.   Wordsworth  to  Rossetti. 

New  York  Evening  Mail : 

"  The  best  collection  ever  made.  ...  A  nobler  library  of  poetry  and 
criticism  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  range  of  English  literature." 

SOME  PRINCIPLES  OF  LITERARY  CRITICISM 

By  C.  T.  WINCHESTER,  Professor  of  English   Literature  in  Wesleyan 
University.     Cloth.     12010.     $1.50. 

A.  J.  GEORGE,  Newton  High  School,  Newton,  Mass.  : 

"  It  is  the  best  work  in  interpretation  that  has  yet  been  issued  on  this  side. 
It  is  sane,  sound,  and  thoroughly  instinct  with  the  best  ideas." 


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